Why "Earn Points"?
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Posted:Dec 16, 2008 4:54 am
Last Updated:Jan 6, 2009 3:54 pm
2567 Views
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I was on Amazon looking for a film I wanted to get someone as a Christmas present, and I saw reviews of a film I quite like, “Forever Young.” (Mel Gibson, frozen in time wakes up to find his wife who he thought was killed actually survived and is now an old woman., but that’s not the point. )
Anyway the “most helpful favourable review” said what a sweet romantic comedy it was, but the “most helpful critical review” was words to the effect that, as a thirty something male the reviewer recognized that he wasn’t the movie’s target audience and that he hadn’t liked it much, but it passed the time okay and the girls would love it and you could at least earn some brownie points with the “lucky lady” you happened to be watching it with.
Yeuck! What annoyed me was not so much the sentiments expressed, but the fact that other people had voted it the most helpful review!!! Okay, I know a lot of men do just calculate almost everything they do with women with a view towards getting what they want, and I know women do that to men too. (And I don’t just mean sex. ) But why do they? Are their partners so dim that they can't see though it? Why can’t we just tell each other how we feel, and what we want, and see how we get on with the truth and being ourselves?
I am sure many times, women have mistrusted my motives because of the way men have lied to or manipulated them in the past. God that pisses me off. And this isn’t even something which has a bearing on any problems I am dealing with at the moment, at least not as far as I know it hasn’t. But then I wouldn’t necessarily know would I?
Bugger it. It can’t be changed. I'll just be who I want to be, get on with life and hope for the best as usual. But something I have always resented in life is that it makes it harder to be a good person when other people are not.
Rant over.
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Health Update
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Posted:Dec 15, 2008 10:36 am
Last Updated:Dec 18, 2008 2:20 am
2509 Views
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Its Monday evening now. From Wednesday to Sunday I had a pulse rate of over one hundred all the time. One moment I was sweating, the next I was freezing cold. My kness, hips and back ached. Sometimes my head ached. Thick, clogging catargh deep in my lungs and a streaming nose as well. I was so weak I could hardly climb the stairs.
No, it wasn't another emotional trauma, lol; I had proper flu.
I am a bit better now. Pulse is normal, no shivering sweats, no head ache. Still feel a bit weak and dizzy though, and so much to catch up on.
But maybe time for a bit of blogging later. See you,
Dreamer.
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Flu
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Posted:Dec 11, 2008 4:50 am
Last Updated:Dec 18, 2008 2:20 am
2581 Views
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Oh goodness I am so ill. It came on pretty quickly yesterday after feeling just like a bit of a cold coming.
I ache all over, my eyes are watering, headache, streaming nose and raw throat-full of flegm so that I can hardly breathe.
Just logged in to send an important work email and make a call but had a coughing fit over my on the phone. Yeuck. Back to bed, see you all when I am better.
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7
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An Appreciation of the Hippiechick
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Posted:Dec 10, 2008 12:33 pm
Last Updated:Oct 2, 2009 3:28 am
2527 Views
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As you know, my friend the hippiechick won my competition to suggest the name for my niece's not-exactly-pet rat, Rizzo. I promised a blog favour to the winner and Hip has asked me to write a post about her blog as her prize.
She says:
"In this post, you should say how you first discovered my blog, why you watch my blog, and name and link to at least 3 specific posts of mine that have affected you and how they have affected you."
Well I don't know how I first came across you Hip, but I think I visited your blog probably after seeing a comment you had left on someone elses, maybe purpletrashcan who I think we were both reading at that time, or maybe runswithknives? Also I find often what catches my eye as well as someones picture is their username and I liked the idea of someone feeling like a throwback to the hippy era so I wanted to know more. When I was at school in the seventies we had a bit of a Woodstock cult going and for a while we all had flares and wished we had been old enough to be hippies. Then glam rock, stadium rock, disco and girls came along and flower power got forgotten a bit. I guess it hung on a little longer in the States, lol.
The first post of yours I saw was, I think, Full Circle and unusually for you it was a poem. It was all in a rainbow of colours. (Remember I did a Christmas message for you like that one time?) Anyway I saw some quirky progression-through-life allegory in it and thought it was really good, but you just said you found it in a cracker-jack box. I didn't know if you were serious or being modest.
Then I had forgotten, until I went back to check just now, that last Thanksgiving you posted the lyrics to "Alice's Restaurant" by Arlo Guthrie, Thanksgiving and it reminded me of college days when I first discovered that recording and my friend and I learned the whole monologue off by heart. Great memories, and you were living up to your hippiechick billing.
Not long after that you had a post up called Another Saturday Night which was about how you and your sister got caught in a storm and you ripped your jeans and had to walk up to the bar in the hotel backwards. I loved the style of that post - a kind of mental free flow, so I began to watch your blog because it always had really interesting stuff on it and I liked your attitude to life. When I read A Fairy Tale I had a feeling that the reason it was called a fairytale was because you were saying you wish it had happened that way to you and it hadn't, but I didn't expect so many people to misunderstand it, and I admired you for not seeing to mind. That made me read back a little way in your blog and I found out that you had had a tough childhood. A tough life really. I really admired the way you still had such a sensible non-judgemental outlook despite having been through so much, but it was only while researching this post that I read some of your earliest blogs where you openly describe some of the things you have been through.
I am proud to be called "dude" by you Hip, and I hope I can keep toughing it out despite life's troubles, just the way you do: You should be mandatory reading for anyone on this site who is having a bad time or recovering from having a bad childhood.
It would have been easy for you to be hard, but you are not.
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First Orgasm, (re-posted)
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Posted:Dec 8, 2008 6:37 am
Last Updated:Sep 28, 2021 12:42 pm
3646 Views
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This is one of my earliest posts and still one of my best I think. Writing it was the start of a very therapeutic period I spent here on this site. I am reposting it as a result of something skierchick posted about how her orgasms have changed over the years.
I realized that mine have too, and a lot of it is because I learned things myself from what I taught the Lioness. I learned to allow my own feelings, both physical and emotional to intensify when I needed them to. There has been a dreadful cost. But the price has always been worth it.
None of what follows is made up.
It was late September. We had spent the whole summer in love but there was always a boundary beyond which we would not go. To say we worked hard at resisting each other would be like saying there’s a bridge in San Francisco. There came a point when, without telling each other, we both knew we couldn’t resist any longer. In fact I remember looking at her one day, and saying,
"It's going to have to be done isn't it."
"Romantic," she replied sarcastically. But she knew I had only said what she was thinking.
We had already talked so much about sex. I knew she would be an incredible lover; she had a way of understanding what made me tick, what made me click; when to kiss and when to lick. You will have heard the phrase, "The eyes are a window on the soul," but the Lioness's were a window onto a world of almost telepathic desire. When she looked deep into mine I felt as if her eyes had reached down into mine and got hold of my cock from the inside. I had had a similar feeling once before, but that was when I was fifteen at a school dance and Samantha Saunders had put her hand down the front of my jeans! (Ok, ok I made that bit up, but that's how it felt when the Lioness looked at me with those steely blue-grey eyes!)
For so long I had held back, like a at the top of a rollercoaster ride, knowing once you have started there is no going back. I mentally closed my eyes and pushed myself forwards, out of control. I got hold of a friend's flat for the weekend. He is still my friend. But I know he wonders sometimes, do I thank him for giving me the push that sent me hurtling into the most wonderful downhill rush of my life, or do I blame him for the injuries I sustained at the bottom? No one is to blame. My love for the Lioness was as inevitable as the tides and the rising of the sun. Once our two spheres had come within range we began to orbit each other, and our gravity had been getting stronger for months.
We walked in, poured some wine and sat down. Suddenly a strange atmosphere had come between us. For all that we wanted each other like a starving man wants food, we didn't know where to begin. I had never seen her look nervous before.
"There's something I need to tell you," she blurted out in the end. "The big secret that everyone knows I've got but only one person knows?"
I had always been jealous about this secret; her friend had teased her about it once in front of us all, but no one knew what it was. I wanted to know everything about her, but I had known enough about her not to push it. She would only ever talk if she wanted to.
"I want to tell you, but the words won't come out."
I was braced for anything; I had no idea what was coming.
"Just open your feelings and let words come out of you," I coaxed, using a phrase which had worked for her before. I knew she trusted me.
"Ok......I've never had an orgasm."
I thought very hard about what to say next. Here was a woman, supremely confident in her sexuality, totally in love, suddenly scared of being exposed as a fraud. I knew she had had several previous lovers, and she obviously loved sex.
"Not even......on your own?" I ventured tentatively.
"I can't do it to myself," she said. "It doesn't work."
I was still wondering what to say next. But she wasn't backing out.
"Do you still want to make love to me?" she asked, part scared, part seductive.
She had broken the ice at last.
"My god of course I do," I said, "maybe this time it will be different."
I slid my arm around the back of her slim shoulders and kissed her deeply, reassuringly, curling my fingers in her hair. Her lips were dry and warm and her neck smelt of an intoxicating mixture of perfume and well brushed hair.
"Let's just get into bed together and see what happens," I suggested.
We took off our clothes. I noticed for the first time what a fantastic figure she had. I had felt her body pressed against me through her clothing many times, but she was never a sexy dresser, and I had had no idea how perfect her skin would be. Her stomach was flat but not skinny, her legs were long, her hips seemed built solely to frame her depths and her heavy breasts relaxed but did not sag as I unclasped her bra.
Still kissing her, our tongues playing a game they had rehearsed all summer, I lowered her shoulders to the bed and ran the palm of my hand across her nipples. She quivered.
They say a woman never forgets her first. The thought came into my head that I might be about to change her life for ever. I did not realise I would be changing my own even more.
I played my fingers over her stomach and her shoulders, kissing her neck and gently tugging at her earlobes with my teeth, then I let my hand wander along the inside of her thigh, down to her knee and back. But it seemed the fire had gone out of her.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Nothing, don't stop."
So I didn't stop, and for a while I went through my foreplay repertoire almost on auto-pilot, but there was little response. It was as if I was lying there with a different woman.
"Wait," I said sitting up. Suddenly I wanted to take a terrible chance. It might ruin everything but I had had an idea. To this day I have no idea where it came from.
"I need to talk to you. You don't seem to be feeling anything."
"It's never mattered before," she said simply.
I felt I needed to make her understand something.
"I want you to give me a blow job."
She looked at me as if I had given her a dare.
"I will then," she announced, perhaps feeling happier to be back in control, and, pushing her hair to one side, she lowered her beautiful lips. But I was ready. I had a plan. I forced myself not to respond. Looking back I can't think how. She worked at me for a while, and in the back of my mind I could feel that her self proclaimed reputation was well deserved, but on the surface I let myself feel nothing. I even began to go a little soft.
"What are you doing?" she asked after a little longer.
"I'm doing the same thing you were doing before, to me." I explained. "I'm not letting myself respond. And it was a difficult job I can tell you, you are very good."
She looked devastated, I thought she might be about to cry.
"It's ok, it's ok; we'll get there," I reassured her. "Remember the very first time I touched your hand and you didn’t lake it away? What did it feel like?"
"Like a little electric current was coming out of your fingers." My cock twitched at the thought of this, but I tried to concentrate on the job in hand. I touched her hand again.
"What does it feel like now?" I asked.
"Nice."
"But not the same."
"No."
"You have to concentrate on the feelings. Let the feeling get into your mind. I love you and I am touching your hand because we are going to make love."
She smiled; a glint of understanding in her eyes.
"So when I touch you here,"(I touched her skin just near the top of her thigh, in the hollow under her hip,) "you have to let yourself feel what it means."
She drew in a little sharp breath, and said,
"That feels different."
I had not expected the effect to be so instant, but it was, almost so that I wondered if she was faking it. But that was something we had talked about and I knew she would not even consider it. I let my fingers trace the same path along her thigh, and when I reached the top, her hips lifted, trying to touch her pussy to my fingers. She sighed, then seemed to think of something and said,
"But let's just finish this first!"
Her mouth sank down over my cock again and this time I gave myself up to her tongue. It was the first of many times she would hungrily suck my cum out of me and she was every bit as good as she thought she was. Her tongue lashed against my cock, while she pushed me to the back of her mouth and into her cheeks. She sucked firmly and with a constant rhythm; she wasn't going for distance, she was going for a quick finish.
I moaned her name, pushing myself up to meet her. "Ohhh don't stop."
She looked up at me for a moment, I could see the lust in her eyes, then she crushed the head of my cock into the roof of her mouth and scrubbed her tongue repeatedly over the sweet spot underneath. I felt the swell of orgasm building in my groin, then my cum burst out of me and into her hungry mouth.
"Mmnn," she mumbled, gulping it down, then running her tongue all round the head, soothing the jangling nerve ends. She lifted her face to mine, then hesitated, but I put my hand behind her head, and slid my tongue over her lips, finally settling my mouth over hers and kissing her tenderly. The taste was exquisite. Her kisses had always tasted special, but now there was an extra sweetness, and a slippery coating of my come on her lips.
"I love you." I told her. It seemed so natural to say it. "And now it really is your turn."
Without waiting for a reaction I slid down the bed and put my face between her legs. Her bush was trimmed to a neat carpet on her pubic bone and her lips were glistening with a little wetness. I ran my tongue over the outside, then tentatively felt for her clitoris.
"Oh!" she gasped, lifting her hips, "Mmmm yes!"
I found her bud and flicked at it with my tongue, gently building the sensations, but I needed a quick fix too and I have always been better with my fingers. I slid my body along hers, replacing my tongue with a finger and rolling her clit with a steady undulating pressure. I sucked gently on her nipple and flicked it against my teeth with my tongue.
I could feel her heart racing under her breast as I brought my left hand up to pinch her other nipple, still keeping the steady rhythm on her clit. Her hips were beginning to grind and her thigh was between my legs. Her body was soft and hard and hot underneath me, her head thrown back as I drowned myself in the feel of her. My cock was hardening again and I wanted desperately to fuck her, to be inside her, but I closed my mind to it and buried my face in her neck. Her perfume drifted into my lungs and as I breathed her in I felt my heart beat faster.
I kissed her again more passionately, then suddenly she whipped her head sideways, my tongue jerking out of her mouth.
"Oh yes, Yes!" She cried, gasping for breath, and suddenly I felt her hips jerk under my fingers, then fall back onto the bed.
"Oh, mmmm," she sighed, as I softened the pressure of my fingers.
"Was that it?" she questioned in wonder.
"I think that was just a little one," I said, smiling.
"But that was incredible, I've never felt anything like that before."
She was breathing a little slower now, and I knew I had broken her hang up.
"I don't really know, I said, but I think as you get used to how it works for you they will get bigger."
I don't think she believed me at the time.
Her delicate long fingers had closed round my cock.
"I want you to come inside me," she gulped, only just managing to say the words.
I pushed her knee away and lifted my body between her legs, touching the tip of my penis to her still wet outer lips. Her eyes shone, and I eased forward, edging the head into her. She groaned and pushed her hips towards me. I rocked back and forward gently, easing a little more into her each time, soaking my shaft in her juices as I edged gradually into her. The heat of her tight hole was burning all around my cock. Finally I sighed deeply as I slid all the way into her and held there, pushing as deep as I could. I did not expect her to come again but I knew she wanted me badly, so I gave myself up to her grip on my cock and worked it in and out, over and over again, gradually increasing the tempo. After a while I felt the distant promise of another orgasm beginning within me, then I realised she was breathing in sync with my movements. On every withdrawal a little gasp; on every stroke a little groan; "Ahhh, Ohh; ahh, ohhh," every time, getting faster and deeper as I lengthened my stroke.
Her gasps suddenly brought me a lot closer, and she began bucking her hips and clawing at my nipples.
"Oh____," I called her name, and came again, ramming my cock into her as my cum pumped out of me. Her hips jerked again and a sudden extra gasp told me she was coming too, harder this time and with a look of amazement in her eyes. I collapsed against her and held her in my arms as we lay together, waiting for our breathing to return to normal.
"Oh God. So that's what all the fuss is about," she said, laughing.
"Well I think that was just an ordinary one," I smiled.
This time I think she believed me. I think she was wondering just how good it could get.
I looked down at her. She looked incredibly beautiful. Watching the woman you love come is one of the most rewarding experiences life has to offer a man. And I really loved her.
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Breasts
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Posted:Dec 4, 2008 5:06 pm
Last Updated:Nov 30, 2009 1:18 pm
2629 Views
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None of what follows is made up.
Her breasts were amazing. In the days before a lot of women had fake ones hers were big, and perfectly shaped. Not that big really, but a fair bit over what used to be known as a standard british handful. But that wasn't what amazed me about them.
I had honestly never noticed what a fantastic figure she had. She didn't dress well; that really wasn't one of her best qualities. I never told her - that would have been mean, and I loved her so what could I have possibly gained? I didn't care anyway - it was what went on in her mind that mattered. Or the look in her eyes when she knew she was going to have me later.
But for a couple of years, while I got to know her, I had no idea how sexy she was. But after a while it began to get to me. And in the end our affair was inevitable. But her breasts were still a surprise. I reached behind her and pinged open the strap to her bra. (Had she worn one which would open easily on purpose? I never asked actually, I wonder now. ) Maybe I just got lucky. But her breasts were heavy and solid. And released from the confines of the bra they thumped down under their own weight. The thing was they thumped down about an eighth of an inch!!! I mean they were the original prototype for the breast lovers guide to the perfect fake breast of the future!
I lavished hours of love on those breasts. I sucked on their nipples while she gasped out with desire. I bit gently into them when she was coming. I buried my head in them when times were hard, and I crushed them against my chest when I was deep inside her. But always, whenever they came free from their restraints, I marvelled at their gravity-defying powers, their sexual responsiveness and their total unbridaled beauty.
She was young I guess. But I don't forget her.
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Help Me Come
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Posted:Dec 2, 2008 1:12 pm
Last Updated:Dec 11, 2008 4:44 am
2952 Views
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Okay, this post is part strange fetish, part cry for help, part heartfelt anguish. Keep reading, the interesting bit comes towards the end, but you need to know the backround.
Right at the moment, sometimes I can't come.
Many of you know that for years I have been in a sexless relationship. Not a marriage, not someone I live with, but someone I couldn't bear to be without. This post isn't really about that; in its way that is a seperate and very complicated issue. But the background is that gradually I got out of the habit of wanting sex, and I needed to want sex to have any chance to slavage that relationship, because I realized that without the sex in the end it was probably doomed.
Porn doesn't really do it very well for me. Imagined reality does. So I stumbled on AdultFriendFinder and found that your erotic tales, escapades, and thoughts of some of you just feeling sexy made me very horny. I thought it was all just about sex though, I didn't bargain for falling in love with the Blogger who loved me, and now she is gone. And now I want sex less than ever, except with the BWLM.
Worse still, when I am alone in bed and I need to come, she is always there in the back of my mind. I can get hard.......I can get half way there, but then, often, an image or a thought of her pops into my head, and becuse I am hurt over her, suddenly I can't come. Can you imagine how frustrating that is. Yes, you are women, I guess you can, lol. Me - I am not used to it.
So I need help, from you guys. Maybe someone can take the risk of having me go mad again, lol. Or maybe not, lol. (But I could be worth it.... ) A couple of you got close back during the reign of the BWLM. Not all my sexy blog posts were for her. She loved to see me flirting with you. Maybe I can find someone sexy to lust over again. Or maybe that's not a very good idea, lol.
But it made me think of this: There is one wierd fetish which, although it is beginning to lose its power, has got me there unexpectedly fairly often. I have no idea why. Any thoughts? It is this:
I was watching an episode of Medium. I love that show. Anyway a dastardly dentist lures a sexy young into his surgery - he plans to kill her but she doesn't know. And then she says, "Hey I've heard dentists have some really great drugs." And he gets a syringe, and she holds out her beautiful bare arm and he injects her. Bear in mind I absolutely hate drugs with a serious passion. I am also a bit frightened of needles - I fainted the last time I had a blood test, lol. But the image of that gorgeous arm, and the drugs being injected in, the fact that she wanted them without even knowing what it was, or what he was going to do to her was sooooooooo horny. Why??? I have noticed that the idea of women injecting drugs has turned me on before, but never as much as this. And yet the reality would be a massive turn off.
What is going on in my head? And am I a pervert?! LOL.
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Shut up
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Posted:Nov 27, 2008 12:06 pm
Last Updated:Dec 2, 2008 3:26 pm
2538 Views
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I always find myself thinking about you guys - my American friends, when it comes round to Thanksgiving.
Maybe WillHe will have roasted a turducken and I know those of you with families will be having a great day together.
I hope you all have a Thanksgiving Dinner that couldn't be beat, go to sleep and don't get up until the next morning.....when I hope you don't get a phone call from officer Obie and find yourselves arrested for littering.
And if you don't know what I am talking about you can always ask, but it probably means that you are either too young or not hip enough, so you can shut up .
Hip will know.
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And The Rat's Name Is......
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Posted:Nov 25, 2008 8:00 am
Last Updated:Dec 2, 2008 12:33 pm
2485 Views
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Rizzo
My niece has spoken, well written actually, and in fact she apologizes for not having mentioned it before. Rizzo also appears to be alive and well despite her attempts to poison him, as she writes that she "heard him ruslting beneath me" yesterday. The mind runs riot. Beneath her?
Anyway, well done to Hippiechick, who came up with the suggestion. I now owe you a blog favour of your choice.
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Old, New Borrowed or Blue?
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Posted:Nov 21, 2008 9:22 am
Last Updated:Dec 11, 2008 4:42 am
2704 Views
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Hi guys.
I seem to have found the ability to write again, at least for now, which I am pleased about. I still have this slightly numbed feeling inside. It is like I am still hurting but I almost can't be bothered to be upset any more. Plus I have reached the stage where actually I don't mind if I go on loving her even when she will only be friends. I suppose some people would say that isn't really good for me. But I doubt I can stop and I am glad to love her, as long as it doesn't make me too unhappy. Maybe blogging will help me get it into perspective. Today I had a good time with some friends, so I know it can still be done.
Anyway, I have a lot to blog about I think, and I feel the urge to write well coming upon me. I hope it will be more entertaining than the last couple of months heart pourings. You have all be so supportive, you deserve some entertainment. Plus I think maybe I want to tell everyone the full story. Some of you know different bits of it, but not all of you know it all.
First I have to face up to another very tough weekend, but I hope next week I will be back on form. There will be sex. There will be emotion. There will be posts where nothing is made up.
But you know what? I also keep feeling the urge to refer back to posts I wrote way back when I first started blogging. I have a whole new group of people watching now. Only Sassicat, WillHe and Amakamaria have been with me since somewhere near my beginning. Even Zandi, Skierchick and Hip missed out on some of those early blogs. So how about some of you who have more recently become my friends let me know what you would like me to do. New stuff only? Post links when I think there are relevant older posts you might like to read? Re-post some golden oldies, or just let you back-blog in your own time if you want to? Any suggestions?
See you next week, and thanks again.
Dreamer.
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Fuck It
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Posted:Nov 19, 2008 2:39 am
Last Updated:Jun 24, 2010 4:46 pm
2838 Views
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There comes a point when even I just have to say "oh fuck it" and move on.
I went to bed last night feeling just a glimmer of something that reminded me of content. Like a kind of, "okay, I am really hurt, but I can't let that stop me from being happy" feeling, because despite my tourtured inner soul I am basically a happy person.
Something funny happened this morning which I had to laugh at. I had woken feeling a little more positive anyway. My very best friend, we'll call her Daisy shall we, (I might blog about her some other time, ) is a mad keen amateur show-jumper. Well she's mad anyway. Very talented but mentally flawed. (Remind you of someone? lol. ) She uses me as her motivational sports psychologist.
Anyway I had a text from her saying she had just jumped a clear round. So, being careful to choose the right words I wrote back: "Oh wow! Brilliant, keep going now, that is absolutley fantastic, whatever happens next!" ........And then I sent it to the blogger who loved me by mistake!
Force of habit! My fingers just automatically clicked on her buttons on my phone. I hope she has her phone turned off 'cos it has a loud rock music ring tone which would have woken her in the middle of the night otherwise!
And it made me think....you know, what we had was fantastic, whatever happens next.
I know this won't last. I know I have other hard things to deal with, and that not long from now I will be down again; that's just how I am. But I know there is a happy person inside trying to get out, and I know in the end he will, whatever happens next.
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A Wreck
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Posted:Nov 17, 2008 9:59 am
Last Updated:Nov 24, 2008 11:18 am
3044 Views
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I have become a blubbering wreck who can't function anymore. (Paraphrasing someone elses words but it is how I feel. )
I poured the whole of me into my blog. Showed the over-emotional side of me, tourtured with unresolved pain and regrets. The deeply sexual and loving side of me, the fun side, even bits of the dark side. And she saw what I wrote and she understood me. She wrote that when she first read my words she felt "I like the way this man's mind works and I want to know him better." It was as if you, reading this, were to think to yourself, "I know many women would think this is the ridiculous outpouring of a self-absorbed middle-aged emotional wreck, but I get this. I love him for it, and I want to know more."
And so I let her know me, showed her my thoughts, and she soaked them up, understanding the whole of me in a way no one has ever understood me in my life before. She revelled in the fact that I didn't want to change her, that I accepted her exactly as she was.
She took my pain and helped me forget it, showed me I could feel a new passion for her, one I had barely known was still in me. We shared our deepest secrets and desires, and when we talked we described to each other the feeling of our lips touching, the rush of heat between our bodies, the intensity we knew we could create. Although we were scared , we longed to make it real.
Now she does not. Now I would go to her she won't have me. Her feelings have changed. But mainly because she chose to make them change and because it had grown into something she did't want and now perhaps because she has managed to make them fade away - I will probably never know exactly how. She is no longer even curious to discover the real taste of my lips or the touch of my fingers to her.
There is no hope left. I can't work, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can't love. I am expected to "move on," and to accept her friendship. I simply want to crawl under a rock and die.
I know my life should be my own, not valid only when referenced to another's love. But I don't know how to be that person anymore. I am not sure I want to be. I am proud to be able to feel the way I do. I am proud that I cannot sink into the self-protectionist anger so many people would use to help them get past this. I can not hate her for letting me down. But she knew me, she should have known what this would be like for me.
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Can't think of One
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Posted:Nov 11, 2008 9:04 am
Last Updated:Dec 3, 2008 3:54 am
3220 Views
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Another Day
It hasn’t been one of my better days, although at least there have been no tears. But last week I thought I was being more positive, whereas today I just feel empty again. I walked into town to get things I needed. The people seemed dull and uninteresting. I kept wondering about the blogger I love; trying to picture what she might be doing today, knowing we won’t be speaking at least until tomorrow. And that when we do, she won’t want me to tell her how much I have missed her.
I remembered how this time of year two years ago I found I had begun to always look for her comments first on my blog, and how excited I was when I first got her email “just saying hello.”
The walk back along the river is beautiful always, a part of what attracted me to live in this town many years ago, but today it felt bleak. The late afternoon sun, not warm enough to take away the chill, was blurring the fading blue of the western sky towards a cloudless orange sunset, while a cold wind blew in my face and ruffled the surface of the water. I thought of her then because one time, not long after we first became close, we took this walk together, following it on google earth while we talked via the IM. I had sent her a picture of the quaint little café on the street by the bridge, and we imagined we had met there for coffee, then walked hand in hand past the church, with me pointing out little places of interest along the riverside on the way to my home.
I showed her how to take the shortcut through the alley and which one was my house. You used to be able to see my car parked outside, but there’s a new picture now, and I must have been out when they took it.
Now I am back here I know I must just keep getting on with life. Make a cup of tea and then do some more work. But my memory won’t let go of her. Where once I blogged here to make us all feel sexy, you included, now I am just leaning on you again. That part of my soul we all called “Dreamer” has hidden away and is inconsolable. He has lost his friend; there is only me left to keep him going.
How did I get so lost, that now when I lie down at the end of the day I would rather hear her voice whisper in my ear from the other side of the world than have a real warm body to lie next to in my bed? The clear sky will make for a cold night, and there will be no one to “sing lullabys” to me down the phone at bedtime.
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To link to this blog (hotdreamer1000) use [blog hotdreamer1000] in your messages.
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