How Do You Harden Your Heart?

I’m so torn up inside. I feel like my chest is caving in on myself. I want to go over to his house; our house, our home. I want to hold him in my arms and smell his man smell. I want to tell him that we can work on this, we can fix this. But I honestly don’t know how.

I spoke to him tonight and we were so cold, formal. It destroyed me. I’m pretty sure it destroyed him.

I don’t know how to be mean. I don’t want this to hurt him so much.

What am I supposed to do?

I want to text him my new number, I want to write to him how much I miss him, how much I want to be with him if he would only give me enough time to work things out. I won’t though, I can’t.

We can’t go back to the way things were. We became too complacent, too hurtful. It’s really easy for me (and my mother) to blame it all on him, and I would say the majority of it is on him, but I’m not the easiest person to deal with.

I keep wavering. I keep thinking that it would be easier to go through a divorce, easier to end this chapter of my life, than to try and have him work on it with me and work on us and get us out of this vicious cycle that we seem to be stuck in.

But then I miss him, and I can’t imagine living with anyone else. I can’t imagine someone else’s arms around me. All I hear is the hurt in his voice, the sadness in his dark circled eyes and I want to kiss it all better. If I just go back. But I won’t. Not yet.

Do I pursue a divorce? Do I try and make it work? Will he ever, truly change? Is it even worth it? I don’t know anymore. I have two paths to choose, and I just can’t seem to make a choice. He is petty and mean, but he knows it, and claims he wants to try and work on it. It’s not in me to give up on love. I love him. He loves me. But he may have given me the best advice I’ll need to get through this…sometimes you just need to harden your heart. If only I could figure out how.

If we do give it another try, it’s going to take a long time before I trust him again.

There are other fish in the sea…maybe bigger, better fish.

I don’t know anymore.

It kills me to lose my best friend. The person I laugh with, watch television with, joke around with. I share songs with him, tears with him, phone calls…but he broke my trust by using some of that against me.

I really hope we can see the counselor soon, even if only to help me make a final decision…

The Bottom Line

I always ask the Universe for guidance. I always say, “Universe, I need some guidance, please send me a sign.”

Tonight, as I drove back to my mother’s place after seeing my husband, “don’t give up, you are loved,” was on the radio. Josh Groban singing one of my favourite songs just happened to be on the radio, at the EXACT spot where he sings out, “don’t give up.” Well, obviously I have my answer.

Two days ago I left my husband. I took the kids and moved to my mom’s. His anger and name-calling had (has?)  finally taken it’s toll and to preserve myself, I left.

It’s been two days of stress and heightened emotions, and many, many tears. He has been mostly cruel and mean, telling me to ‘get off my property!’ when I showed up with the kids to pick up a few things yesterday.

Today we had an appointment to get our taxes done together. I thought it was going to be strained and awkward. It was actually one of the nicest times we’ve spent together. We talked about the shows we watch, the kids, our parents. Finally we talked about us.

He held my hand to his heart and told me there’s no one else that he would rather be with. He told me that I’m his best friend and that he can’t imagine what it would be like to lose his best friend. It took all I had not to start sobbing at the accountant’s office. We agreed that we love each other and we want to work on this. I told him I wanted to stay at my mom’s for now, so we don’t rush back into the exact same situation.

We got our taxes done, then went and had some lunch. We went back to the house and talked some more. We discussed the issue(s); him calling me names. He knows it’s wrong of him, he knows (and admitted) that it’s abhorrent. He told me he would stop. We talked about how I have such a broad vision, I don’t care about being late (I try not to be, but don’t get stressed or hung up on it if I am), I don’t care if I forget something at the grocery store, to me it’s not big deal. For him, he has a more narrow view. He sets things up so that everything works according to his plan, and since most of the time he can’t account for me forgetting my purse, or my keys, or whatever, that pisses him off. He doesn’t know how to deal with the uncertainty I present. I don’t know how to deal with his rigidity. We need to work on these things.

The bottom line is, I love him. He loves me. We want to make this work. We just lack the tools.

He kept trying to kiss me and convince me to go upstairs with him. I wanted to, I wanted to so bad. But I just couldn’t. He kept telling me to come home, that this is our home and the kids should be in their home. I told him I needed more time. I don’t trust that he won’t say something awful to me when he gets mad.

Anyway, I went over again tonight, after I put the kids to bed, to offer him a way to deal with this.

I told him that I plan on staying at my mom’s for a while, but that we’ll have date nights. We’ll start over, from the beginning. Also, I like the idea of going over to see my ‘boyfriend’. There’s something naughty about it that appeals to my inner deviant. I told him that and it made him laugh.

I also told him that I wanted him to go and see his counselor and tell her exactly what he’s said to me, how he deals with his anger so that she can give him some tools that he needs to deal with his anger, so he stops calling me names be getting mean. I told him I would be willing to see someone too, to work on whatever issues he thinks I should work on. He told me that his counselor mentioned inviting me to a session or two, and I asked him to make an appointment tomorrow for his next day off. He agreed.

It’s hard because I was ready to leave him. I was ready to go see a lawyer and finally end it. I’ve been so devestated by the way he treats me. I told him that he didn’t respect me, that he’s never respected me, and his answer? “What have you ever done that warrants my respect?” His words are so cruel and disrespectful. I’m so cautious about moving back in.

He’s not happy about us not moving back. But he’ll put up with it to make us work. He tried to initiate sex again, as I was leaving. I told him I wanted to wait. He hates anticipation. He was mopey about it. I called him on it, and he told me he would never be anything but honest and that right now he’s really sad and mopey because he really wants to make love to his wife.

I can’t believe I actually said no, and walked away. I was debating on whether or not I made the right choice, leaving without having sex with him. That’s when Josh Groban serenaded me to not give up. So I’m not. I won’t give up on him, on us. He wants to be better, and I want us to be better. I must be the biggest sap in the world.

When we’re good, we are so good for each other. When we’re not, we’re toxic to each other. It sucks. But I can’t fault him for admitting that he’s wrong to call me names and that he wants to stop. That he will stop and that he will seek help to change. I want to make sure he’s well on his way to making those changes before I agree to move back in. I love him so much. It kills me to see him hurt from this, even though he’s hurt me beyond comprehension.

I have an incredibly huge capacity for forgiveness, much to my detriment sometimes, perhaps.

Being apart from him hurts my heart. Knowing that he’s all alone in the house that is our home without all the life in it makes my heart hurt for him. I want to hold him close, hug him, and tell him it’ll all be fine. But this time it isn’t. At least not yet. I have my hopes up though.

How can I say no to him when he admits he’s wrong and is willing to make the changes that will make him a better person? That will enable him to treat me better?

Now, if we can just get him to stop being such a man-child, he’d be perfect!

 

 

A Lovely Lunch

“She could have died,” was all I could think while I had lunch with my friend today. I’ve know Cranium since high school and she’s one of, if not the, oldest friend I have.

I got a text from her just before Christmas time letting me know that she was going on stress leave. I thought that was weird because she’s the only person I know that loves her job. She works with kids and I know she applied to do a master’s in early childhood education. She’s always talked about having kids, loves working with them, and often I go to her for parenting advice.

To make a long story short, she helped get a supervisor demoted, and 6 months later, that woman was given back the supervisory positon and now had an ax to grind with my friend. They had a meeting where she nitpicked a thousand little things that my friend was doing wrong. A few days later, the woman sent a pretty nasty email that ended with Cranium having an epic anxiety attack that she was hospitalized for. Blue lips, numb fingers, the works. The doctor told her she shouldn’t go back to work for a while and prescribed her an anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication. I guess the supervisor woman felt bad, because she kept emailing Cranium, trying to provide a better or alternate arrangement. Cranium finally had to tell her to leave her alone because she actually has an anxiety disorder and doesn’t want to be stressed off while she’s on leave. When she told me this part, I wanted to go and smack  whoever put this woman back in charge of being Cranium’s supervisor. Holy conflict of interest!

Fast forward a couple of weeks. Cranium had been doing some research and decided to go to the gym to get some exercise to alleviate the depression with endorphins. She went to a spinning class and said all was well until right after the class ended, and she got hit with what they call a thunderclap headache. She told me on a scale of 1-10, 1 being no pain and 10 being the worst, she was sitting at a 25. They checked her out at the gym and told her that if the headache persists longer than an hour she should go see a doctor.

What does she do?

Goes home to bed. When she woke up the next morning, she still had the headache. She called the hospital and they told her the wait would be 8-10 hours, so she went to the walk-in clinic. The doctor took one look in her eye and told her she should have had a CT scan 12 hours ago. He told her to take a cab to the hospital. She told him she would take the bus, and he told her she could take the cab or he would call the ambulance.

At the hospital they did a bunch of tests on her and it turns out she had a really small hemorrhage in the middle of her brain. (She told me the technical name for what it was, but I’ll be damned if I can remember.) They also transferred her to a different hospital that had better neurological equipment. They told her the doctor at the clinic  probably saved her life.

I actually got a little weepy at the table while she was telling me this story. This is a girl I’ve known since high school, who is absolutely insane for Backstreet Boys, who is vivacious and outgoing and introduced me to the best veggie lasagna I’ve ever eaten. She took me to a Tragically Hip concert because she won tickets and didn’t know anyone else who would want to go. We sat there, drinking beer and I said, “so this is a real concert.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been to a concert that wasn’t Backstreet Boys. It’s weird not to see thousands of screaming girls.”

I almost choked on my beer.

“This is your first real concert? I’m so happy that I’m the one you chose to go with!”

We’ve seen each other through a lot of tough times and mostly a lot of really great times, and I kept having flashes of the great times we’ve had together while she was telling me her story, and how I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. What would her boyfriend do? I introduced them and I’ve known him since grade school. What would any of us do if she was gone? I hoped she wouldn’t notice my eyes welling up, and just kept sniffling to hide the fact that I would be devastated if I lost her. That potentially, I almost did lose her.

There was a hint of paranoia today, after I dropped her off at the mall. I had texted her and she didn’t respond right away and that tiny little voice in my head was whispering, “you overtired her by taking her back to mom’s place, and now she’s probably unconscious on the floor of the mall surrounded by strangers who have no idea that her brain exploded.”

I’m not going to lie, when I got her text I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

This might sound selfish of me, going on about what I would do without her, considering we don’t see each as often as we probably could, but she’s always been there. I can always text her, call her, facebook her, whatever. She’s there. We talk, we pick up where we left off the last time. She asks about the kids, exclaims that she still can’t believe that I have 3 kids. I ask about her boyfriend (soon to be husband), sometimes we talk about sex, sometimes we keep it civil. Sometimes we’re catty, sometimes we reminisce. She gets me, and never fails to let me know when I’m out of line, but she’s always respectful. She’s an amazing person and I love her dearly. It nearly broke my heart to think that she almost died. That she possibly still might.

She’s on ridiculously expensive medication to prevent her brain from spasming, (it spasms to try and get the blood off the brain) that she has to take ever 4 hours.

Before I let myself carried away though, I know I need to relax and not stress about it. She’s alive and for the most part she’s well. We talked about hanging out next week and I hope we both follow through. I think I might invite her for dinner. Anyway, being with her reminded me of how much I missed her and since she’s off, we should definitely spend some time together.

We finished up the day driving back to my mom’s place to pick up my son and on the way we talked about “kids these days.” It’s so funny because we used to be those kids!

I had a really great afternoon with Cranium, even though a small part of me thought I may have killed her.

This is a picture of the lunch that we both had today. Paleo and so awesome, perhaps too much dressing, but it was so delicious! I don’t normally post pics, but look at how epic this salad is!

Darkest Before the Dawn

I went for a walk tonight with my husband. We actually talked, something I think we both realized we haven’t done in a while. The chaotic family life we lead, running around with kids and work and co-ordinating schedules leaves us drained by the end of the day. We just like to veg out. Tonight I pigged out on ruffles potato chips and half of one of the big containers of herb and garlic cream cheese. (That’s primal, right?) Nope, not even a little. I feel sick. Oh yeah, and reece’s peanut butter cups.

He plays video games and I either read or write. While we’re in the same room doing these things, we’re not really spending quality time together. At least when we watch movies or shows we pause them to discuss our opinions on what’s happening in the show. I like to think it’s something quirky that’s unique to only us. Tonight we were heading up to bed, and when my husband was letting the dog out, he half jokingly said we could go for a walk. I agreed immediately.

“What about the kids?” He asked. I shrugged. It’s not like we were going to be out of sight of the house, and tonight was a spectacular night to be outside. So we went. It was freezing out, -25C but the night was crisp and perfect and the stars glittered magically in the sky.

When I look at the night sky on nights like tonight I always wonder about our ancestors. When humans lived in tents or in caves as a community. Did they look up at the sky on crisp, perfect winter nights and feel the awe of the universe? Did they go on moonlit walks, hold each other close under the night sky? Did they see their breaths, in smoky contrast to the clean air? Did they make love and huddle under a pile of furs to keep warm?

“Tonight would be the perfect night for winter camping,” I told my husband, as we blazed a trail behind our house. “But it’s so cold,” he replied. “Exactly! That’s why you bring enough stuff to keep you warm, and then you get to watch the stars and sleep toasty warm, breathing fresh air all night.”

Fresh air. I realized then that I haven’t been outside in ages. This is how I get every January. Seasonal Affective Disorder. Sad. Very, very sad. I keep myself cooped up in the house because it’s so cold and miserable outside.

The girls (MadEye and Kurdles) were over last week and we went for a moonlit walk to the park and it was beautiful. I miss being outside. I miss adventure.

I told my husband how much I loved walking with him, even though it was almost literally around the house. I also noticed a lot of bedroom windows with the typical light blue flashes of television.  I couldn’t imagine how much less we would communicate if we had a television in our bedroom. Why would anyone want a television in their bedroom? The bedroom is for sleeping, and loving.

I also told my husband that I wished we could go on more adventures together. He laughed and said, “we’re on an adventure right now!” And although it was just around the house, it sure felt like an adventure. We talked about some of the stuff that had happened today. We fought and he was a giant jerk, and I felt vindicated when he later apologized. I told him that I’m trying to be more logical and less emotional when we fight, and I, as he attested, seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.

We talked a lot, and it came up that he thinks that when I go out to Starbucks he considers it a waste of gas. I told him that it’s unfair that he can go drive anywhere he wants and it’s never considered a waste of gas, but when I want to go somewhere, it’s a waste of gas. It’s also true that I do it considerably more than he does, but I can’t drive anywhere without him thinking it’s a waste of gas. Blah blah blah. He didn’t want me to feel like I can’t go anywhere and it’s not like he’s purposefully trying to make me feel bad. Anyway, the conversation changed and he brought up the fact that in a couple of years our son will be in school and a huge chunk of our debt will be gone and then we can start using the car for more frivolous reasons.

I started to sob. Our son will be in school in a couple of years and then what? What will I do with myself? All I’m good for is retail and I’m at the point in my life where I despise retail. I told my husband as much. He asked me what I would tell him if the situations were reversed.

“I would tell you to pick something that you love and we would find a way to get you the education you need to do it.” I think he was surprised by the answer. Probably also annoyed. We can’t afford for me to go to school.

If I could pick anything to do with my life, first and formost would be writing. I’m working on a story right now, as I can imagine thousands, hundreds of thousands, of other wannabe-writers are too. I really want to work on it, polish it off, and submit it for publishing. I want it. I have to work harder to make it happen. There is literally nothing stopping me.

The second thing I would pick, if money and time constraints were not an issue, would be a wilderness tour guide. I would teach adventurous people how to winter camp, canoe (though I’ve only been canoeing a handful of times in my life), hike, camp and explore. There’s a program at a college that’s an hour away from here but, realistically, I don’t see how I could make it happen. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and when it’s time, I know I’ll be led in the right direction. Until then, though, I’m terrified (yet excited) for what’s waiting for me.

Normally I’m one to say, “embrace change!” But sometimes it happens so suddenly that you’re just not prepared. My husband held me and told me he loved me and not to worry about these things right now because it’s not happening for a few years. He said the exact right thing that I needed to hear.

I really did enjoy going on our little walk tonight, and I’d like to do it again. I think it might be time to plan a camping trip with MadEye and hopefully Kurdles too. Kurdles has never come camping with us, but I really hope she’d be interested in joining us. I think it would be a blast.

My cheeks are still burning from the cold and my body is energized. I really need to start eating more healthy and get more exercise. I bet I’ll sleep amazing tonight from that simple little walk.

An Ocean of Secrets

…buried in my heart.

A desperate yearning for love and the heart break that follows.

There was a boy in high school. I met him in grade 9 and he was cute and sweet and funny. I changed schools and later, years later,  at foot ball game I decided to drive down to the school and watch. I hadn’t done my hair (which was bleached and normally spiky) so it lay flat and lifeless. Coupled with the green baseball jersey I wore, I’m sure I looked like a cute little lesbian. I bumped into him there and we hit it off. He engaged me and invited me out. To be honest I couldn’t believe he was attracted to me because I looked my worst.

We started dating. Or at least, that’s what I thought it was at the time.  We used to make out in the field by his house under the full moon. He would tell me such romantic things, tell me I was beautiful, whisper my name while I nibbled on his ear. It was innocent, but I would have lost my virginity to him.

The night I met his mother, I had done a play at school and looked like an emo cutter. I had big black smudges on my eyes, black nail polish and grotesque red lipstick. She judged me harshly in that moment, and he probably had no refuge from her judgment. Later that night we made out on the couch while she was upstairs. It was the first time I had touched his dick. I was trying to be really good at hand jobs,  but he was uncomfortable and told me to take it easy. I felt awful. In the middle of it his mom called down the stairs that it was time for me to leave. For all I knew the bitch was listening at the top of the stairs.

The next time I was over at his house, a girl from our class had to stop by to drop something off for a project they were working on. He looked and acted really embarrassed,  and I couldn’t understand why. The way they looked at each other really through me off though. It was quite obvious that she liked him and had assumed he would be alone. I felt like a third wheel. This was the girl that every boy wants to bring home to his mother. Pretty, sweet, confident, really good in school, very social. I found her terribly perky and didn’t like her much.

After she left, we watched a movie and he sat on the opposite side of the couch. I really liked him. I had applied to be a counselor at a diabetic camp that summer, but I knew things with him were getting pretty serious, so I decided not to go. He broke up with me a few days later. And he was harsh about it too. He told me that he never really liked me like ‘that’, that things were getting too serious, and that his mother didn’t really like me anyway. He was incredibly tactless with my delicate heart.

I always had the feeling that he was just practicing with me, practicing his sweet words, practicing with his roaming hands. He left me feeling empty and broken hearted. Not long after I heard he started dating that other girl. I hoped she was a cold fish. A dead fuck.  I think they’re married now. I almost bumped into him at the mall not too long ago. I looked up and saw him, I knew he had seen me because he made too much of an effort to avoid me. I was trying to catch his eye so I could ask him how he was doing and introduce him to my child. He walked by me pointedly looking away.

That hurt the most because he made me feel so special when I was with him. He always made me feel like such a lady, someone worthy of the devotion he gave me and then in one fell swoop he took it all away. I wasn’t really special, I was just the practice model until he found the real thing.

Another boy I met in a high school night class. I fell in love with him. He was the most unique person I’d ever met. He was interesting and I was enthralled with him. He invited me out to his birthday party and we got drunk and made out. I remember his best friend said that watching us kiss looked like a lion eating a gazel but the with the gazel fighting back to take it’s own share. We always laughed at that. He was tender with me, very open and honest. I loved him dearly, and imagined an entire future with him. He was stable, passionate (our sex was incredible), and  romantic. I used to love the way he would hold me, especially after sex. We were great friends and amazing lovers. I remember walking into his parents house (I would pick him up for school, with another friend of mine who was waiting in the car.) I knew as soon as I walked in that something was different. He was stiffer, cold. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Finally I called him on it. He admitted that he didn’t see us working out. Things were getting too intense and he felt that I was feeling way more for him than he was for me. He didn’t think it was fair to me to not feel the same way. It crushed me.

All my dreams of him, of being with him, marrying him, making babies with him, gone in an instant. I truly thought we would be together for the long haul. I don’t think he ever really realized how much I loved him. Or maybe he did but knew he would never feel like that about me. He was tender to the very end, and I appreciated that from him. We met up a few years later and now we’re pretty good friends. He actually just got married. He’s a still a really great guy and a good friend.

I like to open my heart to people, especially my lovers. I don’t think they ever really knew that, or at least I tried not to let them know that. I always yearned for love.

I had a mad crush on a friend of mine (this was the next year). I yearned for him, wanted him so badly. He never reciprocated. He was a few years older than me and we used to drive up to his dad’s cottage. Of all the cottages I’ve ever been to, even since then, I’ve never seen the stars like I did there. Once he hosted a big party there and all of us got drunk and passed out in the cots in the basement. We were pretty close friends and we fell asleep together. I woke up to him grinding on me. It was really nice. I turned around and gave him a hand job. We kissed a bit and eventually he came into my hand. I thought for sure that he had changed his mind and decided we would be together. He whispered in my ear that now was the time to find something, anything, to wipe my hands on. We were in the pitch black basement of the cottage surrounded by our sleeping friends. It was one of the first, true, erotic moments of my life.

I asked him later if it meant anything and he assured me it didn’t. It broke my heart again because I was sure that things had changed between us. I later went on to ‘date’ his friend. Well over a year later, when my feelings for him had cooled and I knew nothing would ever happen between us. We would all get drunk and his friend and I would make out. He was typically an asshole. A seriously mean asshole, but when he was drunk he treated me like gold. We would drink and make out and I loved rubbing his huge dick. I imagined losing my virginity to him. I used to grind on him in my little white panties, wondering what it would feel like to have his dick inside me. Man, he was an amazing kisser. After one such session, we went down to the kitchen for more beers and the guys were all hanging out there. He came up and hugged me close from behind. He held me like that for a while, as we drank beer and talked with the guys. I felt so special. I was surprised that he was so openly affectionate. It turned out that he was only like that when he was drunk. He treated me like absolute shit when he was sober. He barely talked to me, ever. It’s too bad he needed alcohol to open up and be honest with me. I had mentioned, “when we have sex,” because I just assumed I would lose my virginity to him and that freaked him out. He started getting meaner when he was sober, so I broke up with him. Which fucked him up real bad. He started drinking more and I went out with the guys less. Eventually he got over it, but I just thought it was mean that he couldn’t be nice to me unless he was drunk. It made me really sad too because I was falling for him. I could have loved him.

These feelings sometimes remind me of Kurdles. She is ready, willing, and able to give a beautiful, intense love and these assholes keep shoving it back in her face. Too much. Too intense. That’s how I felt with most of the guys I had been with. It was always the guys that were friends that I was ready love. A devoted servant, ready to placate them with hand jobs, and probably my virginity, if they would just love me.

Why don’t they like intense? I’ll never understand. If you show someone that kind of intensity they brush it off and call you crazy. I call it passionate and fuck anyone who says otherwise. I feel like she and I are of the same ilk when it comes to loving in a relationship. I want someone who is willing to fall with me, into passion. Who will be as intense with me as I feel for them. Who will fuck with raw passion, fuck the love into my pussy. Eye contact, heavy breathing, deep kisses and soft touches.

I think people are moving away from such intimate passion. There are new rules, stupid rules. Don’t be too clingy, wait 3 days before you call someone. I’ll never understand it. Luckily, I don’t have to. In my opinion though, if a guy wants to be with me, he’ll show interest, not a lack of it. My husband loves me. I love him dearly for all my whining about him. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about being too clingy.

 

 

The End is Nigh

How would you fuck, if you knew the end of the world was nigh? What if the world was going to end in exactly one hour?Who would you fuck?

If time and space were of no concern, and you could choose anyone to fuck in the next hour, who would it be? How would you fuck them? Would you fuck slow and languorously? Relishing every minute of your last hour? Or fast and furious, eager to get it done before the world ends? Would you choose someone that would otherwise find the encounter awkward or unsettling? It might be fun to choose someone who would find it awkward otherwise.

I would try to cum as the world ended. What a powerful way to end it all, with a great, big, bang of spasming muscles and a loud moan. La petite mort.

Who would I choose? Him. I would choose him. Our kisses would be tender and yielding and fierce with urgency. I would want to take my time to enjoy it, but I wouldn’t want to miss cumming at the end.

I would stroke his face, and look into his eyes, holding him close to me. His arms would encircle my waist and we’d stay like that for a while, looking into each other’s eyes, trying to fathom how it came to this. Our clothes would come off with a little awkward fumbling and laughter. We’d tumble to the bed, experiencing the newness of each other. Kisses long and deep.

I would put my hand on his chest, and rub the hair there. I’d want him to talk to me, tell me all the intense things he would be thinking about, no matter how inconsequential. I’d urge him to keep his thoughts, as I busy myself sucking his dick. I’d suck the intensity out of his brain while I play with his balls. He would be nervous and I would find it endearing, all the while sucking on his dick. I would want him to moan, and call out my name.

I would have him take me while I was on my back. We’d discuss the finer nuances of life as we thrust together, sweat beading on our skin. I’d make him hold me close, as the fear of the end of the world and our orgasms drew near. I’d whisper to him that I love him and that I’m sorry we never got the chance to see things work out between us. He’d lean close and nibble on my ear, breathing heavy and sucking on my neck. For once I wouldn’t be worried about who might see the dreaded hickey. We would be in the moment, fucking, sucking, licking.

He would tell me that I’m beautiful, and that he can’t wait to see the look on my face when I cum. He’d continue thrusting, getting us both close to the end. He’d lean back a bit and play with my nipple, watching me throw my head back, revelling in the pleasure of it all. I’d watch him smile, a secret smile that only lovers know, and I’d grind harder. Finally, I would look at him with sadness in my heart, knowing that this is the end for us. I would tell him that I love him, that I’ve always loved him, since before I even met him and that I’m glad we could be together in the end.

Then we would cum together. As cliche as the movies. We would cum in rolling waves and the world would blow up around us, tearing our love asunder.

The End.

How would you fuck, if  it was the end of the world?

The Dichotomy of Good and Evil

I texted my husband yesterday to ask him if he meant it. If he really wanted me to find a new place, if he really wanted us to live apart.

He called me and told me he’d been thinking and no, he didn’t really mean it, but that he was really mad when he sent me that text the night before. He told me that he was really mad and didn’t know how else to get through to me because otherwise I just don’t listen to him. But I do listen to him, and I do hear him, I just don’t always know how to answer him.

So we talked. And talked. And talked. And texted. Then talked some more. I feel like my soul has been through an emotional ringer.

I think we’re just waiting to make it through the holidays before we implement any changes, or figure out what our next step is going to be.

He asked me yesterday morning why I was crying, and I told him ‘because I’m upset.” I admitted last night that it was because I was completely heart broken.

It’s pretty awful that he says he doesn’t like hurting me, yet he does it so frequently.

I admit also, that I might not be the easiest person to live with, so a lot of the time I understand his frustration. He’s also pretty anal about a lot of things. Not that that’s an excuse, but if we’re looking at all the sides of this, I can’t negate my part in it.

I told him I felt insecure about our relationship now, and that it really sucks that he’s going to pull out leaving me as a (last?) resort. I told him we both have to stop thinking about divorce every time things get really bad. I told him we need to communicate more, from the source, instead of holding it in and blowing up when we’re mad.

When he came home from work last night we made love. We kissed a lot, and looked into each other’s eyes and I cried at the thought of losing him. He held me close and told me he didn’t want to lose me and that spending the day not wearing his wedding ring felt really weird.

After dinner we curled up and watched a movie. He sat on the same couch as me and I put my feet up on him. He held my hand, and when I wept at the end of the movie, he looked at me and told me I was his best friend, which of course, made me weep harder.

We went to bed snuggled into each other, warm and cozy and secure.

However, now in the stark light of day, I can’t help but wonder when the shit’s going to hit the fan again. When I’m going to do something that will throw him over the edge. When he’s going to do something that’s going to send me over the edge.

For all my talk of leaving him, or us not being compatible, I realized yesterday when I was about to lose him, that I wanted him more than ever. That I didn’t want to imagine a life where he was cold to me, where we would freeze our hearts to each other and carry on with our chins up for the children’s sakes. I don’t want us to divide our things, and have short, strained conversations. I don’t want to imagine him with another woman, enjoying himself starting a new life with someone else, someone who isn’t me. I don’t want to give up on what we have, because when it’s not bad, it’s pretty wonderful.

Oh, the dichotomy of good and evil…sad and happy.