Whenever, Wherever

We’re meant to be together.

Didn’t check b.o.b.’s status before I got in the shower. No worky. So I hopped out, wet and naked, to forage for batteries. Found some in the Xbox controller. No worky. So I dunno if those batteries were dead too, or if I need a new b.o.b.

But I forged ahead in my mission to quell some of my sexual frustration. Luckily b.o.b. is still a useful shape and bumpy, etc.

I discovered something. I imagined that my Wolve was watching me. It was awesome. Though my rational mind kept butting in to insist that he would never watch that long without taking over the job himself. The thought of which excited me more.

I love the feel of his hands on my skin, his arms around my waist, his lips on mine – it drives me crazy and I can barely breathe. I love it.

I love him. And I am such a fuckin’ chicken. I tried to say it about 50 times. Just couldn’t get myself to spit it out. Fuckin’ wuss. Want to say it every time. My love, my beloved, my all.
That song…I’d never heard it before, had to look it up. Wow. Never got into Fiona Apple all that much. But that song is so brutally true and it means so much, from him. I wrote a poem about/for him, many many moons ago, and that’s the title. “I’ll Know.” Isn’t that something?

It felt so good to snuggle with him in the big comfy chair. I fit perfectly – just under his chin, his legs against my legs, his arms around my waist and on my breasts, and laying against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his breath. Like…a key in a lock, or two pieces of a puzzle.

I just love him. I don’t deserve him, and he could so do better. I’m afraid to suggest it, but I almost feel guilty about it. Derpy, I know. And dammit, even if he does know, and he knows I have trouble finding the words and spitting them out, I need to. I do need to tell him that I love him, and have known it for a while already. Want to keep him forever. Want to look up from my book and see him across the room. Want to wake up to his amazing eyes every morning. Twitterpated? I should think so.

one track mind

I can’t open the gorram door to my ‘new’ apartment. Oh, its shite. Its such crap. Bugs. Smell of fresh white cheap paint. Shit falling apart. Shitty apartment complex covered in fresh paint to make it look alright from the street. Mud and trash and loud upstairs neighbors. AAAAAHHHH!!!!!

Dammitall. Keep telling myself its temporary and won’t be for long and it’ll be ok and we’ve lived in worse. But oh its gonna suck.
I’m overthinking it, I tend to do that which is one reason I drink, to make all the thinking stop. Oy.
Want my aminal with me, he makes me forget all the realities that suck the soul out of me. He makes me smile. Don’t remember if I wrote about this already or not, but Dave asked me what I see in him. How to answer that? He’s funny, and not in the same way as anyone else. The punning is a guilty pleasure I hate to admit. Interesting phenomenon: I love language and words and playing with meanings. But a pun still makes one scroan. ;p

He is a gentleman. More so than any man I’ve known under the age of 60, I think. The way Jackie said it is, “He respects you, and it shows.” And it’s not just me.
I suppose one must consider his mother responsible for some of his awesomeness, even if I don’t wanna. That comment of hers still hurts my feelins. Isn’t that silly?

I think I am paranoid about other people’s opinions as to my motives and intentions with him. His mother’s ideas, Dave’s ideas, and that of other unnamed folks who think it has something to do with his financial status.

It doesn’t. I know myself, even if I don’t want to admit it most of the time. I wanted him when I visited in Aug. last year. Before he had any hint of the job yet.

Hell, probly woulda gone for it when I went back to Grants. Mighta been awkward though, since he had a girlfriend and Dave drove us there in his mom’s car.
But c’mon – only a couple of people I really tried to make sure I got to see. And I had driven to M&S place exactly once before, couple of years before. How long was he there before I decided I had to visit?
I very much remember being frustrated because I couldn’t think of any excuse to be next to him most of the time, especially that night fishing shindig. Dark, outdoors, booze? Dammitall, who would really rather fish, I ask you?
Which shows regardless that he is a better person than I am.
But no nada nothing happened, not even in-person flirting much. Therefore I very much resent accusations of ulterior motives. Being told that I was using Mr. Whinypants until Mr. Right came along. (Exactly what he actually said!) Yeah. Planned it all years in advance – getting K to break up with his girlfriend, getting him to move to tornado country, getting him to visit Tulsa. I shoulda.

Loving every minute I get to spend with him. Pouting the rest of the time. Still nervous and shy with him, silly as it is. All this other crap pissing me off, going wrong. Forgets it and smiles with him. Therefore, need him around.

got lucky ;)

He smells good. He feels good. He looks good.
His touch is phenomenal – his mouth, his lips, his tongue, sweet jesus! I swear that if he doesn’t stop I’m gonna die. And he doesn’t stop, and I’m in heaven so I guess maybe I did. And then he does some more. And every time we move its good and it’s breathtaking in a different way. I try to reciprocate…
I haven’t done that in years. Never for old man. Don’t know if I was ever any good at it, hope I’m not too bad. Silly thing is I enjoyed myself. Mmm…. Love the feel of his skin in my mouth, in my hands.
Being too doofy. Just me.
But I’m having the time of my life.
BabyGirl likes him. What else is there to know? Ok, if that was the real criteria I probably should’ve waited to see what she thought before I started sleeping with him. What ever.
Yeah. Other things I could relate. Been a while. Kicked myself for not making any kind of move when I visited M&S place. Timing was wrong, I know. Wanted to though. Was nervous as all hell when he went back to Grants for a visit. Thought some chica would snag him. Hadn’t any right to concern myself, but there you are.
Snuggling and cuddled up on my bed, it was lovely. I just want a bit of that every day, what’s wrong with that?
I like Stetson, always have. But I like it better on him. Mmmm, gorgeous. It works, oh so very much, he doesn’t just smell like Stetson, it mixes with his skin and he just smells like him and I get high on it.
And I latch onto sweet things he says. Like saying he would try some other cologne if I didn’t like it.
He sent me a snake mug and Bushmills. I think because he knew they would make me smile. He makes me smile. I am adoring his neck nibbling addiction. Who knew? I get all melty.
Ooh golly. Had a moment, thinking and remembering and feeling him again when I closed my eyes. Something on the inside of my chest jumps and catches me and my breath stops for a second and my heart starts speeding up.
Reality blows. Don’t want him to go home, don’t want to get dressed and go to work, don’t want it to end.
Laying in bed with him after, sweaty and happy, talking, listening to his painful jokes, was one of the most awesome bits.
He’s wonderful. I know it can’t always be like this, but it’s fucking wonderful.

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on holes and hills

and when Mama's happy, anything goes!

Why yes, I am a little bit special. Sometimes it’s a good thing. Like when I’m happy. I know, realistically, that it won’t last, that there are a million things right now that ought to have me worried sick or pissed off. But if there’s something or things that seem more important and are good, I’m generally happy.

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Shoes on the Horses of the Apocalypse

A Shoe, by any name you call it, makes me hot & wet.

Do forgive if I repeat myself at least once. Not that you’ve read any of my previous posts. Mostly because you don’t exist. That’s cool. Just wanna talk to somebody who won’t judge.

insert clever title

Too much in my head, overwhelmed. So much new going on, much old history on my mind for one reason or another, and always the everyday crazy that is within my cranium. I want to get it out, keep thinking that I ought to write it out, but then I have to take it out and look at it, and I know that I have to make an appointment with myself for that. Must have plenty of time, alone, with the freedom to be as emotional as necessary. Also must have the fortitude and inclination to bring those little monsters out and dissect them. Takes a strong stomach sometimes. And a few stiff drinks. So.

make you bust out of your blouse!

tired and tired and tired

Frustrated and tired. Should so totally be in bed. Going soon. Honest.

But really – I am actually a grownup. So don’t tell me what to do.
especially not about my kids, OR MY CATS!!!

Hurts my soul and my dignity and my pride to cave and grovel and capitulate, to the detriment of any of my darlings!

(Cont’d)
So I didn’t. Told him its not working out, not what’s best for either of us. So of course he asks if there’s someone else.