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Sexy Rendevous & Really Weird Dream

28 Mar

D was called in for reserve, and even though we sometimes do not see each other for a full week, this time, since he was physically far away, it felt like forever. When he was unexpectedly released for a night in his own bed, we mutually decided on a night in my own bed, even though it was against our new rule of no sleepovers when my Boy is home. I needed to see him, so I made weak rationalizations in my head. He hadn’t had bad dreams in over a week now. And he’d had a long day, he would be too tired to get up in the middle of the night and come into my room.

A knock on the door and then a bone crushing embrace that lasted a full minute, and then his lips on my neck, and in my hair and on my mouth, soft, slippery and comforting. It was the best I had felt in a while. I missed you, he said, I had missed him too. Missed his mouth, and his neck, and his shoulders, and his biceps. Missed pulling his shirt off and feeling his warm skin against mine. Within minutes, we were making out on my sofa like a coupe of teenagers, fingers caressing and groping, tongues tasting, hips dancing. And then we moved into my bedroom, where we allowed ourselves more freedom, to explore each other’s bodies with our own, to turn off lights and thoughts and just be, easing in from a jumble of arms and legs and breasts, and hips, into rythmic movement, growing steadily deeper and faster, until that magnificent moment of complete oblivion, in which nothing has place, except the intense sensation of his final thrust and my legs wrapped around him, and my head tilted back as I muffle a groan.

But that night, back in our clothes, sleeping deeply, facing different directions, our legs still tangled like the roots of an ancient tree, I awoke abruptly to see his little face in the dark, “I can’t sleep”. Thank god for his little body, his head barely peering over the edge of the mattress. The darkness. D tucked away under the comforter. I got up immediately and took my Boy back to bed, patting his back for a full twenty minutes, which felt like forever, until he was breathing heavily again.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No. It’s OK.”

D held me as a made an honest effort to go back to sleep. Finally, there he was, my son. It was morning, the sun beamed through the open shades and he was asking me, “who’s this, mom?” With surprise and sleepiness I woke D up. I said, “This is D. He’s a friend.” And I put my boy with a bowl of cereal in front of the TV. My sister was suddenly there. And she was playing with him, as the doorbell rang. Shit. Must be BD and his new girlfriend here to pick up my boy. Quick, D, out the back door.

They came in, smug, and went straight to the Boy’s room to pack an overnight bag for him. A couple of minutes later, it was too quiet in his room, as it often is with young children, and I felt worried, that something was wrong. I opened the door and found them: D, BD and new girlfriend, and they were getting dressed. When I confronted them, they admitted to having had a threesome, right there in my child’s bedroom. What the fuck?? I was out of my mind with rage, but all they did was shrug it off. D even said I was making a big deal out of nothing. I remember thinking miserably, how gullible I was, how I allowed someone, once again, to become close to me, and hurt me so terribly.

At 5 am the alarm rang, a few minutes after I had woken up. D’s arms were around me again, consoling me after I’d nudged him and whispered “bad dream”. When I told him about it he laughed and quoted the Lonely Island singing It’s not gay if it’s in a threeway. Then he did an Eddie Murphy impression and said, “You know what? Yeah. I fucked her. OK? I fucked her. But I made love to you.” We laughed it off, and he went back to his reserve, and I woke my son up with oatmeal and smiles, awaiting the weekend, when we’d have the house to ourselves, making new promises to avoid sleepovers on weeknights, at least until D’s called in for reserve again.

Online Dating is not That Bad?

19 Oct

This is what I have to say for myself:

It’s raining cats and dogs.

My classroom is totally flooded. Got off work late.

J lost her cat, panicked, then found it.

Got cat allergies.

Went home. Drank to glasses of wine. Mispelled two.

45 year old divorcé+2 asked if he could dominate me.

No.

27 year old kiddo wrote me a cute message.

Too tipsy to overthink it.

Gave him my number.

Going out Tuesday.

Worst case senario – I finally get laid.

Will fill you in.

Good night.

Lonely Shrimp & and Beer

17 Oct

It’s so fucking quiet here right now. The only sounds I can hear are the hum of the cheap ceiling fan I had installed in the living room, my fingers hitting the keyboard and my way to many thoughts.

Only several hours ago the place was a mess. My kid refusing to nap was bouncing off the sofas an onto the coffee table scream-singing the Fireman Sam theme song, being chased by a dog we’d been sitting for a few days, bouncy, scratchy, loud and annoying (and cute). I had a headache and no patience, and my period was late (still is) and I needed a break and a drink.

Then BD came to collect them, smooth and calm, like only a man who does not live with his toddler looks when he comes to pick him up. Suddenly the house was quiet.

I should have been relieved. But as I cracked open a beer and sat on the sofa, all I could feel was emptiness. Toys all over the living room floor wanted to be played with. My messy bed where my son had been jumping in his over-exhausted hyper fit was calling for us to roll around in and make animal noises and tickle each other and squeal.

These sacred hours alone, I have so few of them in my schedule. They shouldn’t be spent crying and drinking beer. I should be having epiphanies. And sex. And magical moments with good friends which make me reevaluate my life. Instead I sauté shrimp with garlic, broccoli and butter. And I drink another beer. And then I watch a romantic comedy about this girl whose life is fucked, but then she meets a guy. Oh, you know the one.

You’d think all this would lift my mood, but you’d be wrong. Is it really this lonely to be single? And if I don’t love the guy and 100% do NOT want to be with him, doesn’t this mean that getting over him should be easier? Will alone ever again not equal lonely?

Happy International Woman’s Day to a Me Still Craving Male Affirmation

8 Mar

I’m having such a blah day. The landlord to that house I want isn’t sending me the contract and I’m beginning to worry there might be something fishy going on there. I’m dying to move, but I need to let the daycare know what’s up in two days, and I’m not sure things will be final by then, or ever…

To make things worse my Boy is sick again, for the fourth time this month. High fever, not planning on going to daycare tomorrow. So mommy has to miss work, AGAIN.

And then there’s the other thing. It’s no secret that one of our most basic needs as human beings is to be touched, and it’s been really long. This sex deprivation is making me agitated in an already agitating situation. Bad for my health. And there’s not much I can do about it. I have no life, it’s all work and motherhood, and by the time I get a night off, I’m usually too tired to do anything. Then I finally get a break and my boy is healthy for an entire week, and he goes to his dad, and I go out drinking and meet a creepy weirdo who doesn’t get a hint.

My ego has really taking a blow lately. I feel unattractive, unsuccessful. Even if rationally I know I’m doing well, I feel like a failure nonetheless. And in this pool of self-pity that I’ve sort of let myself sink into today, there seems to be only one thing that can drag me out: male attention. Affirmation that does not come from within. I just really need someone to think that I’m cool right now, and that someone has to have a penis and a nice smile.

I’ve come a long way this year, but here’s something that hasn’t changed a bit: I still don’t think I’m worth a dime if I’m not constantly told I am by others.

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but why don’t you drive away that boy I like, creep me out and stick your tongue down my throat?

7 Mar

So in my desperation – I’m not afraid to admit it, it’s been months since anyone’s touched me – I had my second unsuccessful to say the least, attempt at the pick-up-bar scene. Three drinks later, the boy I liked said he was thinking about getting back together with his ex, a guy ten year older than me tried to politely ask for my number, and a creepy yet persistent 30-year-old-divorce-atterny (I kid you not) was giving me tips on how to finalize my divorce and come visit his bedroom while I was at it.

I began by saying I was desperate, and if he had been even slightly less creepy and aggressive, I would have gone with it. But within seconds it was how much he liked me, and how he’d told that other guy – the one I actually liked – to back off, and then the chewing began. The chewing of my lips, like they were a piece of meat, which made me want to ask him to please start treating all of me as a piece of meat and not just my lips. I mean, there hadn’t even been one nice soft getting to know you kiss.

I gave him a false number. That’s the most chicken shit thing to do in the world. Then I left that place and let all the weirdos continue hitting on the few normal people that had come there in order to get over or get back at exes.

 

Wedding

26 Sep

dress

It was a beautiful wedding. BD took Baby and I had time for a bath, hair and make up, and I took a cab so I’d be able to drink. It wasn’t a close friend of mine who’d gotten married, but I knew I’d be crying like a little girl as she walked down the aisle. And I did.

I’ve always cried at weddings, for various reasons, that have changed over the years. The reasons that cause me to well up may have changed, but the tears are there, same as always. It used to be “how beautiful it is to be so in love” tears, and later on “I wish I were getting married”. Then it was, “I’m so happy for them” tears – after I myself had gotten married I went through a phase where I wanted everyone I knew to get married as well, so that they could be as happy as I was. Finally came the “fuck this” tears. The “true love doesn’t really exist but if you want to believe that it does, go ahead” tears. The “yeah, good luck with that” tears.

Tonight, it was the “will I ever love anyone that much again” tears, that stung my heart and shattered my soul.

At least I wore a pretty dress, drank five whiskey diet colas, ate a ginormous piece of wedding cake and got plenty of attention.

Time for bed now.

Up? Drunk.

19 Aug

drunk text

I wanted 2 text u – up? drunk.

But u never answered my last mail & that’s a bummer.

And u’r not emotionally available 4 a realtionship with a girl like me & that’s a turnoff.

And I think u don’t really have feelings for me like we did in the past & that’s a bummer and a turnoff.

So I’m turning off my phone, bummed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wlhw_HJLts