I caught a cold from Davey. We’ve worked valiantly for the past few days to keep that from happening, but this morning I succumbed. I feel like crap. I’m nearly running a fever, something which I rarely do. It’s gone straight to my lungs, which is never a good place for an asthmatic to have an infection.
*whine**moan*
I feel tired, headachy, achy and miserable.
I seem extra anxious this week. I worry about every little thing. Sometimes that worrying is rooted in a valid worry – i.e., the Irishman is married just as my gut feeling told me and I don’t know for sure if he’s telling the truth about it being an open marriage or if he’s lying to me. Other worries, are less rooted in reality.
I got an email from the Latina. A long friendly one where she takes the time to address anything I mentioned in my last email from a few days ago. She addresses one issue and at first I read it as her being ok with the idea of some risk. I was overjoyed and ran into the kitchen to tell Davey. But then, I started overthinking her words and wondered if I read it right. I had Davey read the email and he insists I’m just being paranoid. I’ve re-read the email and half the time I think I’m being paranoid the other half of the time I think I interpreted her words wrong the first time. *sigh* She leaves in a few days on vacation, so I hope that I hear back from her before then so I can put my fears to rest and know what the deal is.
I’m such a worrier. I hate this. I used to scoff at my grandmother when she’d worry about any and everything, but meanwhile I’m not all that different than she is. I think I’m going through a particularly anxious time right now, and that at another point in time I’d be on a more even keel. I’m starting to wonder if my meds are exactly right for me or if they need further tweaking. Or better yet, if I just need to find a way to work through being anxious all the time.
Saajan’s new place is fantastic. I wish I was at a point where I could afford a nice condo. The man has two and a half bathrooms – and he lives alone! He has a nice kitchen, but doesn’t cook. *sigh* I’m a little jealous but also very happy for him.
We hung out for a little while – the first time in a very long time. And then slowly drew closer to each other. “I heard that someone’s horny,” he said. On the phone I had told him that I was horny and looking for someone to fuck. And I was very happy that we were clearly going to fuck.
We went upstairs to his bedroom, and his large comfy bed. We kissed passionately and he roughly fondled my breasts. As always, I got so hot from making out with him. Soon our clothes were off and he was sucking on my breasts and playing with my clit. He’s very sexy when he says things like, “Someone’s very wet…” I like how he’s pretty dominant and takes control of the situation. The submissive in me just eats that up.
I had forgotten what his penis was like. I suppose nearly two years will do that to memory. It’s even nicer than I remember. Not very long but moderately thick. I stroked him as he got me wetter and wetter. Soon we were fucking and it was just as I remembered – hard and fast and intense. I came so easily from the pounding. He likes fucking hard and later said he was glad to give the first pussy pounding he had given in a while (and apparently it’s his favorite way to fuck). (It’s not that he hasn’t been fucking others. I know he’s off to a gang bang today and there’s a 19-year-old he’s recently taken up with. I suppose the others just don’t like it as hard as I do.) He loves my level of flexibility and asked if I’m double jointed in my hips. Nope, just really flexible. He said that, like a carpenter, he likes a nice flat surface to work on. I replied, “Like a carpenter you like a nice flat surface to nail.” *grin* He chuckled. We chatted and cuddled a bit and then got back to fooling around – with him fingering me to fantastic orgasms while he stroked his cock. Then, round two of the intense fucking. I screamed, “oh god,” more times than I can count. He joked that I must be very religious. Ha ha. And that I seemed to have a few orgasms between prayers.
We lounged on his bed and talked for a while about the state of politics in the U.S. and the idea of finding another country to move to. We didn’t come up with any good answers. He wants somewhere warm, I want somewhere more moderate. I said I’ll visit him on his tropical island. He talked about the rampant corruption in his native India and how it upsets him so. He’s occasionally mentioned the notion of going over there, becoming prime minister, and cleaning the country up. I just like the idea of potentially being able to say that I’ve fucked the prime minister of India. Ha ha. That would be cool.
It’s so refreshing to have a blog entry that sounds like the old me again. Ahh, I’m glad I’m back. There’s still progress to be made but I’m getting there.
Damn it, I was right. The Irish guy is married. My librarian senses were tinging and I just knew it somehow. He claims he’s in an open relationship – I don’t know if I can trust that but I figure that he’s the one doing the cheating, not me, if he is cheating, so I’m not going to worry about it. (And I’m archiving his email that says he’s in an open relationship should the question ever come up.)
I fooled around with a married guy off and on back in my 20’s and unfortunately it ended with this wife calling me at work to confront me about it. I lucked out that it was a day when much of the office was away at an off site meeting. But I was pretty shaken. Yes, I had known the guy was married. Not initially – initially he claimed he was separated and had this fantastical story about his wife leaving him. I found out on the phone that day with his wife that that separation had never occured.
I really hope the Irish guy isn’t lying. Although one does have to wonder why it took a few weeks, and me asking specifically, to find out he’s married. *sigh* I had a dream the other night with the Irish guy I had dated before where I went to meet up with him somewhere during the summer and was waiting and waiting, getting bitten by mosquitoes, when he finally calls to say that he can’t make it, and over the course of the call it comes out that he really only wants me for sex.
Telling, eh? Or possibly just old anxieties coming to the fore. After all, in real life that guy cheated on me and then dumped me when I was understanding about the cheating. Fucker.
That same night I had that hot dream with the Latina, so I can only hope that pans out like my dream!
My plot thickens.
I’ve calmed down from the other day. It’s just that encountering asshole’s name unexpectedly had triggered feelings from the assault all over again and made me super-anxious. Thankfully I’m moving past that. Thankfully I’m medicated!
I spent time at the NY Comic Con today – great way to spend a workday! Got lots of free stuff. I tried to get the Irishman to come visit me tonight but he can’t get away. Drat. I want to shag him! (I have put forth the question, “Are you truly single?” in an email to him as I remembered a date I had about a year and a half ago with a guy I met on a poly site who it turned out was married and hadn’t convinced his wife of polyamory yet. I figure even though his profile says he’s single, it never hurts to ask. I have no interest in helping someone cheat. I really hope he is single though. *crosses fingers*)
Davey’s going to a concert tonight so I have the place to myself. But never fear, getting back into my slut ways, I thought to call my friend Saajan who I haven’t shagged in nearly two years now. It’s way overdue I tell you. Plus he has a new place I haven’t visited yet and I owe him a visit. I really hope we shag. *grin* Davey’s said he’s happy to outsource some sex to an Indian. 
Yes, I’m getting back to my slutty ways. A little tentatively at times, and definitely with more of an eye towards safety than before, but the old me is coming back. I’ve been insanely horny lately. Almost like the last two years when I didn’t feel all that horny has been stored up and is all coming out now. Davey’s a little scared. *grin* Next thing you know he’ll be calling my friends with benefits to set up playdates for me. Hee hee.
I had a cool dream with the Latina in it last night, we were making out on a sofa at what was supposed to be her place. Hot! Funny thing is, as it was a dream, she didn’t look a thing like herself. Pity. She was still cute though.
TGIF!
The week seems to be going downhill, in stark contrast to how happy and optimistic I felt last weekend. Granted, I think having memories of the assault triggered have put me in a funk, and I’m probably looking at this much more darkly than I should. I just want to move on and not have it affect my life anymore!
I mentioned to J. how the assault came up in conversation with L. and his email back included the sentence, “Tell me more about the assault.” So now I’m thinking, “Great, this will somehow be a strike against me. He won’t want to fool around with someone who is willing to say that someone assaulted her. He’s probably worried that one wrong move and I’d say the same thing about him.” And that’s not the case. I’ve been coerced and pressured into sex more times than I can count, but I only count one time as rape and one time as assault. Both those instances were clearly above and beyond the others. At least with pressure and coercion I made the choice to give in. There was still choice involved. With the rape and the assault, my option to choose was taken away from me.
I’m a world-class worrier, like my grandmother was, so telling me to just chill and not worry won’t work. I’m trying to stop worrying. I know I’m making this into a bigger deal than it probably is. I wish I could just put that goddamned assault behind me permanently. All that work in therapy, I seemed to be much better (hell, I’m horny as I sit here and write this – something I didn’t feel much of for a while) and now it’s come up to the surface again, like a floating mass of pond scum from the depths. I need an extra strong filter to get rid of it, asap.
I just want to be my happy-go-lucky, slutty, horny self again. I’m almost there – in some ways I’m there. But I need to get past these current hurdles.
As recent as early Monday, I blogged here that “life is good.” Today I feel like life is shit.
No, that’s not entirely true, but I’m feeling free floating anxiety that threatens to keep me awake tonight despite medication to help me sleep. One degree of separation from the man who assaulted me was too close for comfort. And wondering where J. (the Irishman) has gone to as he hasn’t emailed me since Saturday even has me feeling dark.
I fucking hate drama. Maybe I’d be smart to not date. Just stick with Davey and have done with it. But then I don’t think that would make me happy either. I keep reminding myself that nothing ventured is nothing gained but it feels like I keep hitting a wall every time I try to venture out into the world. Home seems so safe and secure and the outside world threatens to intrude.
I’m sure I’ll get through this (thank the non-existent god I’m medicated). But I just want to be happy for once without anxiety intruding. It’s starting to feel like I’m hard-wired for anxiety and post traumatic symptoms. Little triggers are around every corner. It’s been nearly two years now, why the fuck aren’t I just over this?? One little thing sets off a chain reaction and I fall down. Boom.
I hope I manage to sleep tonight. Drowsiness is starting to set in, so maybe there’s medicated hope.
I had a lovely date today with the Latina. We had lunch then knitted and crocheted and talked. We seem to really click and have a lot of the same philosophies. Things were going great. Then we got on the subject of sex parties, and she mentions one she’s just started going to in a particular part of the city. Oh no. I said, I hope it’s not the same party in that area that I used to go to. She named the host and I blurted out, “He assaulted me.” I explained to her what happened, and how she really needs to be careful going to those particular parties (I don’t want her to go quite frankly, but it’s not my place to tell her how to live her life). She seemed to take the situation very seriously and understood my professed anger at the perpetrator.
But still, a dark cloud settled over me. Why the fuck can’t this man stop fucking up and affecting my life? And an irrational (semi-irrational) fear settled over me – what if she doesn’t believe me? Now all signs point to the fact that she did, but after having everyone at those parties want to minimize and make excuses for what happened to me, I’m understandably panicked that that might happen again. I dealt with a bunch of people who didn’t want to make waves and possibly get themselves uninvited to a sex party, and therefore they tried to talk themselves and me out of looking at what happened. I really wish just one person would have spoken up and said that what he did was wrong. I also really wish he could have just taken responsibility for his actions and apologized, instead of going on about how it was just an “accident.” When he chose to keep hurting me after I asked him to stop, it became a matter of personal responsibility. And I’m angry that he didn’t take responsibility for it. Hell, I’m angry at what he did. I’m just really fucking angry.
I’ve emailed the Latina to ask her not to mention me to this guy, or anyone else at the parties. I don’t want to have any contact with him, no matter how indirect. I hope I never have to hear his name ever again. I also fear that her association with me could cause him to do her harm as well.
I’m frustrated that today could have been all good – after all, she gave me a couple of lovely kisses as we said goodbye – but instead has left me an upset mess. Shortly after getting home I told Davey all about it and cried.
So I’m riding the waves of dating these days – the glorious ups and downs that come with liking someone, or multiple someones, and then waiting to hear from them next, as you’re not to the point yet where you can trust that they like you and will come back for more. Today I’m seeing the cute Latina again, and I’m excited about that. But with women I’m so used to just platonic relationships that it’s hard for me to believe that maybe a woman would like me as more than just a friend. I hope a kiss comes with this date today, to give me a better idea. As it is, I’ve been wondering if that kiss on the cheek at the end of the last date wasn’t intended for my mouth, but I had moved out of the way too fast.
I’m trying to arrange some time alone with the Irishman but haven’t heard from him much this weekend. Doh! I hate being ravenously horny over someone and then not hearing from them. And more than just being horny, I like him and like spending time with him. Good thing the Latina got back to me suggesting plans today, as I was considering asking the Irishman if he was free today. If I had been banking on seeing him today, I might have been sorely disappointed.
I didn’t hear from the married guy for a few days, and was wondering if perhaps things hadn’t gone as well as they seemed. But this morning, there was an email in my inbox from him saying that he had a nice time as well but has family in town. While I liked him, my dating plate is so full right now I was almost hoping that things wouldn’t work out. Almost. He’s nice and cute and has a good sense of humor so I wouldn’t want to throw that away.
Yesterday, I spent a quality day with Davey – making sure that our relationship gets the time it deserves. I woke up yesterday feeling scared about how truly polyamorous a turn my life has taken – I’m excited about it, but it’s really new. I’ve had friends with benefits before, but to be truly dating like I am is new. I want to see how it goes, however, and just reminded myself that I need to make sure I stick to my vow – to keep my relationship with Davey first in priority. Otherwise, I’ll do my best to enjoy the wild ride.
So Davey and I went out for brunch, got a little shopping in, and later had some quality naked time together. Life is good.
I’m spending a very, very dull Saturday at work. If today went any slower it would go backwards. I still have nearly two hours to go. *sigh*
So why is it when you’re keen on someone (or, excuse me, when I’M keen on someone) they don’t seem to email? Just when you really feel like hearing from them they take a break from writing and you’re left out in the dust with just a tumbleweed rolling by for company. Today is just a frustrating sort of day. I hope the evening turns out better. It’s bound to be less boring than today.
(Hmm, that last line is from a Belle and Sebsastian song – “If You’re Feeling Sinister.” Somewhat unintentional, that.)
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