Coffee and Effexor

Last night I saw The Man Who Is Not My Husband. It’s been nearly a month since we last saw each other and as he walked up to the house I waited with breathless anticipation.

He is incredibly attractive. He is hardly handsome by conventional standards, but then again, I’m hardly conventional. Every time I see him, I want to rake my fingers through his thick, curly hair. He has stunning blue eyes that peer out from his tired face.

Sometimes I just want to hug him close and dance. Then he opens his stupid mouth and I want to punch him. He’ll call me ‘bitch’ in jest, which I can’t stand. I tell him not to call me names, but he’ll do it anyway.

He’s a really nice guy, if a little jaded. I can’t decide whether or not I still feel as strongly about him as I did before. Probably not if I’m questioning it. I still want to kiss him, but even with the intense Spring Fever, it’s not enough to make me do it. Yet.

He just sent me this text,  “A good coffee is like a fine, fine lady; you can’t have it all at once, you gotta spend some time gettin’ it in the mood. A playful sip to test how ready it is, make sure she’s good and hot, then take a firm but delicate grasp and awwww yeah, down she goes. Yeaaaa coffee.”

I haven’t had coffee in over a week and I miss it. I love coffee. So does he. It’s one of the many little things we have in common.

Speaking of having things in common, he and my husband get along quite well and have tons of stuff in common. Strange. I go for similar types of guys.

In other news, since my husband has gone off the Effexor, his ability to sustain ejaculation has all but vanished. Which I find incredibly disappointing. However, he tells me he’s enjoying his orgasms more, which is good for him. To be fair, we still haven’t established a post-medication groove, so we’ll see where it goes from here.

It’s a little bit funny that we’re both premature ejaculators. I mean, he’s really not that bad, not nearly as bad as I am. It’s just sometimes I want to get fucked for a while before it comes to an end. A long while. I’m not talking hours because honestly, it hurts after a while. Perhaps half an hour to an hour. Of course that’s also assuming we have no children who are going to interrupt us.

I was speaking to a friend of mine at work about places to go for the weekend with my husband. I want to take him away for a romantic weekend where we can fuck uninterrupted for the entire weekend. She sent me a link to an amazing bed and breakfast that’s relatively inexpensive. Included in the prices is access to Scandinavian baths. It sounds divine.

I’m looking in to it for mid-April. I just need to save up the money. I hope it’ll be a surprise for him. Since his head injury last June (a basal skull fracture/concussion) he hasn’t been feeling well and with all the changes to his medication lately he’s been suffering from pretty bad head aches.

Anyway, my friend who told me about the bed and breakfast, told me there’s a hot tub in the room. My husband loves hot tubs. I think this could be a lot of fun. It will also be a really fun surprise.

Hooray for sex in the hot tub. Even though you’re not supposed to because it can cause bladder infections. Meh.

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