Apr 172017
 

While my ex-husband and I were hitting the nail in the coffin of our marriage and making a messy muck of it, we would often use the term “now or never”.

I started it, I think. I started it on the drive out to him, where I told him it was his girlfriend or me. He had to make a decision immediately as I didn’t want to waste any more time driving. Perhaps it makes sense why I issued that ultimatum, but it was still a manipulation ploy.

I also used it when I was stuck in my hometown with nowhere else to go after that long drive. I used it under the context that kids would be in school, I would get a job because I had to, and I needed to know where to settle. “Make up your mind now, you have about two weeks, and then we’re stuck in this town,” I told him desperately. It was the truth, but the truth can still manipulate. I was hoping to press him to get what I wanted.

We reconciled a few times in the Spring, if reconciling meant fucking up each other’s minds and occasionally fucking. So many tears, so much confusion. We would lash out and hurt each other just to keep some distance, come back and apologize between sobs and blame. We didn’t see each other all that frequently, and the few times were in secret.

Clearly, while I spoke the truth, it wasn’t now or never, as I kept pushing back the timeline. Over the summer, surely I could change schools, find another job. Yes, it was even more complicated, but wasn’t it worth it? We really committed over the summer, broke up with our partners and attempted to work towards us. If committed meant throwing ultimatums, mostly from him this time: give up the blog, only write fiction, delete the past lovers, move to me, give me writing assignments, work on your issues – I don’t have any; now or never.

I tried to compromise the most I was ever willing to over the summer, being so heartbroken and lost in life by then that I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wasn’t willing to give up the blog but compromised what it looked like, catered to all the other whims. After just a short time, he changed his mind when I complained that I was only one changing. Summer didn’t see us together for more than a few days without changing our minds, but it was a few days scattered once a week for the duration of it.

We had sucked the vitality of our love in our attempt to keep our relationship together; we were dry and empty. We should’ve known better, but fall saw us trying again. Now or never, I again stated, but this time he was compromising location – after all, by this point I was settled into the school year and just couldn’t do that to my family. We still worked out the terms of our reconciliation, but we were shaky.

This reconciliation lasted the longest – a whole two weeks. He procrastinated finding a job, I was helping him. Now or never, I echoed that so much, so desperate for what I felt was the last time. He visited me for a weekend, I visited him for a weekend.

I think that last weekend was truly our now or never. I was visiting my daughter, making her a priority, and plans in trying to work around her social calendar kept interfering with my ex and myself. Or perhaps our daughters’ schedule weren’t working out the way we planned – but the passion was gone, the desperation – from both of us. I think we both felt it. We were well and truly tired.

As I drove away from visiting him, he called me and stated that he didn’t think he wanted to continue. It wasn’t a new statement by any means, the difference being that I also didn’t want to continue.  We wished each other the best, felt that we would support each other if needed but space was needed far more for the time being, and went our separate ways.

A month later, my baby sister died. I called him hysterical and he seemed amazingly sympathetic, but while I was out there dealing with her body and possessions he became callous and self-centered. I couldn’t understand how he could make demands and requests of me in my grief – though to be fair at any other time I would have responded at least neutrally on what he asked of me. But it wasn’t any other time, it was a tragic heart-ripping moment.

I needed him now far more than I ever had before and realized it would never happen – not even as a friend.

Apr 142017
 

*For the month of April, I am going to purge my drafts of my off-and-on reconciliation attempts with my ex-husband last year. They are still painful, and will be incredibly rough drafts, as I am literally purging emotions and some bittersweet memories. I may also mix in some current stuff just to give myself a break, or to reflect where I am now.

I wrote this on Valentine’s Day, one year before he turned me out of his life. 

1 in a bar full of men, I only had eyes for you

2 you are always supportive of me

3 you do little things to show me you love me, like make the bed, or leave me a note

4 you’re a good dresser

5 you have the upmost respect for women

6 if you’re concentrated, you get grumpy if interrupted

7 you have a huge smile when you tease and deal with my brat times

8 you can pick up something and make it look easy (crafts, bowling, skiing, etc)

9 you are open minded and compassionate

10 you are a fierce snuggler

11 you always have to touch me if I’m in reach

12 your voice slows down and gets softer when talking to females or elderly

13 you always wait till the last minute

14 you’re a good dancer, even when you strip

15 you try not to let me see the tupperware when it’s gross, even changing your mind about bringing it in if I’m nearby

16 you draw your eyebrows together when you decide your done talking about a conversation

17 you only gesture when you’re in a good mood, you will occasionally do knife hands when angry

18 you are a good cook

19 you rock my world in bed and are adventurous

20 the noises you make when you cum

21 your gruff morning voice

Apr 132017
 

“You never hear of the bullet that hits you, it is one of the few blessings of battle.” – Burke Davis, Marine! the Life Chesty Puller

My ex-husband wrote me a list of reasons why he loved me and our life together one week before I drove out to be with him, a drive that he turned me away from him once I arrived. With texts like this, perhaps it may make sense on why I didn’t see the bullet that killed us. Hello purging, glad you are now deleted from my phone.

  • I love the way you look at me when we wake up together, that sparkle in your eyes and that smile you get, especially when you know we are about to have some wonderful morning sex.
  • I love the way you are willing to jump into anything.
  • I like it when you take control, it makes me go crazy and turns me on so much like nothing else.
  • I love how giddy you get when we are going or doing something new!
  • I also like how you try to involve everybody and don’t let people feel left out.
  • I love how we are each others biggest fans and supporters.
  • I love how we drive and encourage each other to be the best that we can, even when it sucks to do so.
  • I love how we can just talk forever and not stop.
  • I can not wait to finally really go RV shopping with you!
  • I love you too, soulmate. Copilot to the open roads.
  • Our home will have a hide away library/romper room we will spend hours in…..
  • We will be those people that will have a map of the United States and get stickers to fill in the entire thing!
  • I am going to have my mini pitbull and you will have your Pom and we will happily fit in the home and RV
  • We are going to be busy people when we retire. There is so much traveling we need to do, not just in the RV but all I’ve r the world. We have talked so much about our worldly travels we will have and I can not wait to begin them. I mean I get to be stuck on a plane with you for over 8 hours that is a great start!
  • Another thing I love about you and I, we get each other what we want.
  • When we retire and build our own house, I will put in a beautiful garden and maybe a green house, so we can have wonderful flower year round.
  • I can’t wait to start exploring this new area with you!

Apr 122017
 

“Play hard to get, remain silent, scared, and dramatically emotional,” Joy repeated to herself, closing the big red book of Fairy Tales upon her perch of the toadstool. She nodded to herself for extra measure, felt the breeze stir the fringes of her tutu skirt, rubbed her toes together for comfort, and laid the book beside her. She arched into the sunlight, welcomed the warming rays upon her bare arms and face, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the rest of what she’d learned about non humans trying to get humans to love them.

She’d like Beast’s methods best, but he was a male. She looked down at her breasts and giggled, nope…she just didn’t possess enough fur to carry it off and take the woman like he did. Besides, she had her sights set on a man. Of course, maybe men liked that sort, but her extensive research did not indicate that. She had read what men really liked.

He was long, but then again they all looked a bit long when one was tiny. He had the most beautiful garden, and seemed kind. She loved how what he was focused on reflected so beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. She hoped to be reflected there one day, with his luscious lips smiling at her in love.

She stood up, squared her shoulders, stretched her wings and let those embrace the breeze and sun before flitted to the nearby ground. She squinted her eyes and held her breath after casting, realized that wasn’t the most flattering, and forced herself to relax as all the fairies seemed to. Eloquence, grace, she repeated. A few seconds went by: a deep breath and her eyes opened to the grass so far below her she could barely distinguish the toadstool. She worried for the briefest of moments if she made herself too long, but worrying just wasn’t in her nature, so she shrugged and off she headed towards the man’s yard.

Not that Joy headed far, she simply stepped a few times, in awe of heavy she seemed against the earth, her feet slightly sinking in damp dirt, and reached for over the short gate to his gorgeous garden. A quick twist of the lock, a slight push of the creaky contraption, and she entered the path, immediately being surrounded by the lovely fragrance of roses and flowers. This was by far her favorite season, made her think of sex amid all the perfumed sweetness.

This year she was going to attempt a different type of sex, her family always did mention just how her curiosity got the better of her. It was such fun discovering new things. As she walked past the blooms, before she was already visible in the garden, she could already envision once he saw her he would stand up and gaze at her beauty. She would pretend to just notice him and turn back towards the bushes and climbing vines as if to seek shelter, but he would take her hand and guide into the sunshine in the center of his yard. She would smile coyly, a move she had been practicing, and would shyly kneel before him.

Men, she read, loved blow jobs, a sex called oral, and so he would be surprised when she kneeled in front of him but wouldn’t stop her. She would reach for his pants and pull out his penis. According to her reasearch, this was where individual preference mattered, so she would purse her lips and start blowing softly before she increased the intensity to hard blowing. She liked the breeze upon her wings, so she supposed a human male’s penis might appreciate the air she created across. Sucking she couldn’t imagine would create the same air stream, but supposedly that was important too, so she would suck in great lungful of air and would look up with him with eyes that looked like puppies and he would smile his appreciation at her gift, falling in love with her.

The tricky part was, according to the fairy tales, they would be married immediately but she didn’t want that part, only the falling in love and sex part; so she would have to run away once he proposed. But she would blow him a kiss behind her shoulder and wink to let him know there were no hard feelings, and try not to giggle (as was her nature) until she was once again in her natural form. (The tales also shared she would die a painful death if she didn’t succeed, but of course she would, she always did.)

Joy couldn’t wait to see the look on his face as she gave him what all men wanted so much they fell in love. She quickened her steps.
Wicked Wednesday

*Wicked Wednesday is on nature this week. Click to see what inspires others.

Apr 112017
 

It’s been my limited experience that men in the military take on aspects of their partner’s interests. Perhaps because they’ve become institutionalized and are used to just going with whatever is around them, an adapt-and-overcome attitude. Perhaps it’s because for the vast majority of them, they went from high school to adulthood in the military, without having that awkward transition period of now-what?. Whatever the case, the friends and lovers that I know who are military tend to get involved with their partner’s interests and embrace them as if they came into the relationship with them.

Interested in kink? Well I’ve never considered it, didn’t even consider myself kinky, but let’s try it.

Interested in ballroom dancing? Hey, that’s something I never considered and I love to be active. Let’s give it a whirl.

Interested in weight lifting? Fantastic, I know a thing or two from having to be in great physical shape.

Now don’t get me wrong, there is something endearing about a partner who will embrace my interests and actively engage in them. It is fantastic for a couple to be share passions and  hobbies, but the problem is when a military man personally gets involved with me but comes empty-handed of new experiences that I may also learn from. It also can be a problem when my lover takes an interest and pursues it so fiercely, maybe because it’s new and exciting, that they push only that agenda where I am now sick of something I used to enjoy. Or, it could even be the one-up mentality: they can now (or think they) do it better/know more.

The beauty of engaging with another person is meeting and being introduced to new concepts, ideas, hobbies, experiences. Of my two long term relationships with military men (though my sister had far more and experienced the same things), they did not have a hobby that they pursued in the relationship with me, so I gain nothing new; whereas they pursued some of my passions (kink being the foremost) and broadened their horizon.

Perhaps it’s wrong to tally-mark what is gained in a relationship in this way; I am grateful that the men have engaged in something in something that I love and that we can share in it.

 

Apr 102017
 

*For the month of April, I am going to purge my drafts of my off-and-on reconciliation attempts with my ex-husband last year. They are still painful, and will be incredibly rough drafts, as I am literally purging emotions and some bittersweet memories. I may also mix in some current stuff just to give myself a break, or to reflect where I am now.

As we discussed a plan where I was going to dominant him (after our pegging went so well), I started taking notes and buying some things. It was our second weekend where he would be cheating on his girlfriend, and he approached it as the weekend where he would make his final decision as to who he would choose (yeah, right, sadly that went on for awhile).

We didn’t do the scene that I so carefully crafted, as he became angry at me after the second day and abruptly left. Months later he was still asking me, when his curiosity got the better of him, what I had planned for him. I lied and told him I had deleted the list when I found out he used the items that I had bought for his scene on his girlfriend.

Have I shared that I write everything down? This blog is only the teeny tiny tip of the iceberg, but most really don’t need to be shared.

However, in the interest of purging, which is what I’m doing this month, I am deleting this list (in a manner of speaking) by putting it out here.

The list:

knife

candle

chains

anal hook

violet wand

clothes pins

coconut rope

paddle

wedge with penis down, doxy

wheel

blindfold

gag

rope

futos tied tightly in legs, legs spread ass up, wrists tied

 

**that’s the list. I’m not going to go into detail (because I’m getting rid of, not fantasizing about, him) about the scene or even adding details slightly the way I may in notes.

Apr 072017
 

*Switch: A person who vacillates between dominant (I’ll also use topping) and submissive (bottoming) roles within relations.

So at the GRUE (conference/event), one of the most engaging things to me was a conversation about switching. It was looked down a lot, kind of the way bisexuality is at times: being too flighty to pick a side or not really knowing which side to choose rather than a valid choice and natural instinct.

In my new state, a lot of people identify as switch, by far the majority from what I’ve observed. Once in room full of people, the presenter asked how many identify as a switch and everyone but the presenter raised their hand. It’s a bit odd, but at the GRUE it made for an excellent conversation. Such topics were:

 How do you switch with another switch? My ex husband and I were both switches (to an extent, he was always a service top if he topped). Our dynamics were always very clear to us – there was no mistaking our role for whatever the occasion – a very strange and special knowledge of knowing each other so intimately. He would voice if he needed me to top him, otherwise the dynamic was he would top me. At times we would go for more of a primal, fight to be on top, role but that was even clearly telegraphed in an unspoken manner between us.

In speaking and listening to others at this conference, I realized just how rare and special that dynamic was as there was little conflict in just knowing what the other wanted and being so attuned as to grant it.

Mr. Texas and I are switches, and while we haven’t been together nearly as long and are no where near as attuned to each other, the agreement is for the most part he tops. We do have a few of these complications that others discussed of two switches being together; for example, sometimes it’s unclear who wants to bottom – I top far more than I ever did with my ex. We will also sometimes switch mid scene. The rule that is keeping us the most satisfied in this dynamic is regardless of who is on bottom at first, I cannot go from bottoming to topping. I just cannot get my head space right to submit and then dominate, whereas he can because he can only take so much pain, which brings me to my next topic that was discussed…

Many of them had triggers that would flip the switch. This shocked me to hear, as many of them discussed how mid-scene they would grab the implement they were being hit with and hit the person topping them. I have never felt this urge, it would not even occur to me. To me, that’s a consent violation unless it was agreed upon. I addressed perhaps a need to disclaim that in part of the negotiations to my fellow switches, as a collective group we were trying to come up to some solutions to some of the issues of being a switch.

Mr. Texas and I, prior to the GRUE, did not switch mid-scene. He would ask me to mid-scene after he topped me for awhile, but I always declined (again, can’t do the head space) until we came the agreement that the order could be reversed (I could go from top to bottom). What began as a negotiation and honest communication with what made us tick has worked to our benefit, as Mr. Texas doesn’t necessarily have a trigger that makes him flip roles – it’s more of a pain threshold that he can no longer tolerate but doesn’t want to call an end to. I am really having fun exploring my more sadistic side with Mr. Texas in a way that was unforeseen, but Mr. Texas is not a masochist (we both love each other’s reactions in this dynamic) so once he’s done but too stubborn to color, he simply grabs me and flips me under him, often with a hand around my throat – a simple and consistent action that always gets me in a submitting headspace.

What I have also discovered since the GRUE is that Mr. Texas does have a sensual trigger that makes me want to top me: when I am not obviously topping but being more playful, I will sometimes straddle him, tease him with my body, have the tip of his head right at my entrance and deny him, press my breasts against his chest, and nip at his neck. It’s really the nipping at his neck that triggers him, his moans turn into growls and he begins to grip and grab at me to position certain ways. This tends to turn into a fight for top but only briefly (nowhere near the savage intensity my ex and I played at, which I am fine with).

What’s the difference between switching and bratty. 

*Brat: Within the BDSM lifestyle, the term brat is usually applied to a person of a submissive nature who acts up or causes trouble in order to attract attention. This is generally frowned upon as it is classed as topping from the bottom and trying to control the situation.

I am not sure if the group ever could clearly define this question posed. Bratty also tends to have a negative connotation in the BDSM scene. I know that I am not bratty with Mr. Texas (except once when he asked for a picture while he was at work), but that I was occasionally bratty with my ex husband. Bratty is almost a challenge in my mind and Mr. Texas is new to this role so I try not to challenge him as he needs to gain confidence in it. I was a brat with my ex whenever I wanted his attention, most often when he would tie me and was more focused on the rope than me – a common occurrence. I have not been bratty to The Wanderer – again our dynamic has always been firm in roles, though I am playful at times to get him away from his serious nature, but never in a challenging way or to gain attention. I don’t know if I will be clearly defining the difference but switching is a role and bratty is a mood to me.

The need to address the things done incorrectly. How we know both sides of the coin and will invariably meet up with people that we’re more knowledgeable but will bottom for. It’s somewhat inevitable that the longer someone is in the lifestyle and educates themselves, that they will know more than the person topping them. It’s the case with Mr. Texas, as he knew nothing so I topped from the bottom as I taught him (which wasn’t the case with everything, some things he just instinctively knew), and I teach him what I do know. Sometimes it’s with demonstrating on him, sometimes it’s talking him through something, and sometimes it’s going to educational events with him. Regardless, it revolves around honest and authentic communication – something anyone with any amount of knowledge should do with the person they are engaging with.
*Terms defined by Urban Dictionary

Apr 062017
 

*Taken from notes I wrote on a phone, I am leaving this unedited. I believe this was when my ex husband and I were practicing rope with some of our closest friends, and he wanted to see if he could rig a predicament bondage with a suspension and Doxy wand, where I could put down my foot to take away some pain of the suspension but it would cost me. 

**I wrote this August 2015, half a year before we divorced. 

You’re really sexy babe he said as he tied my legs to the pole, knees bent on the floor, thighs parted.

It was a reassurance in the midst of my shyness, of my uncertainly in a room full of people watching, spread in such a manner in just my underwear, a thin sliver of pretended modesty. He whispered it before he bent me over, exposing me more, so vulnerable feeling except his words of praise, of proudness, of appreciation of the trust I placed in him, bent me over until my face hovered inches above the ground, the chest harness of rope wrapped tightly around my beating heart stopping my face from hiding, showing my body bent, never a flattering angle for a stomach and mine especially felt awkward hanging curled in such an angle. Yet his eyes never left my mother’s hips, my muscular thighs, my rear end invitingly titling up with such ease of access, the small of my back.

He saw beautiful and I felt the warm glow of approval.