Last Straw?

I don't know what the last straw will be... the thing that finally helps me to let go of him.  I have so many fears and so many doubts. 

I'm afraid to go back to who I was.  The child in a woman's body.  The girl that knows nothing but how to please.  The one who takes over and makes my mind go numb.  Auto-pilot, my therapist calls it.  I have done this so many times the pattern is ingrained. 

I tease playfully, seduce, touch, giggle.  I play my part.  I want them to like me, to approve of me, to want me.  I don't want anything more than that.  Just the satisfaction of their longing. 

But then they do want it, they really want it.  They don't let me stop it.  The press me, push me, control me and suddenly I am on auto-pilot.  I push away softly.  I say no, ever so softly.

They don't hear me... or they just don't care...

They push and I fall into place.  A perfect little puzzle piece, fitting snugly into place.  I coo and cream to their delight.  I am not me.  I am what they want.  They rip off my clothes, pick a nearby surface and toss me on it, they fall upon me hard and fast.  Ignoring all common sense and knowledge they ignore my plea for a condom. 

I've made so many mistakes.  I don't want to be her.  I don't want to live this sexual addiction again.  I fear I would go back to this without him.  I'm so scared.  I want to be strong, but what if auto-pilot comes back. 

I don't feel strong enough and I pull him back in.  Hanging onto this desperate clawing animal... I cling despite tears, scratches, and gouges

Piece by piece I fall weaker, but some days I feel the strength and courage of this conviction.  The man I love is hollow.  He is no longer who I met that dazzled and loved me so deeply our hearts melted into one on the first date. 

I am so scared... I can't envision my life without him.  More tears fall, but it doesn't make this any easier.  Never any easier...

Frustration Mounts

It is building today.  So many things I've wanted to say.  So many times I wanted to reach out and say stop.  I'm stuck.  The more I speak up, the less he listens... but the less I speak, the less he will know to correct.  It is a catch-22.  A viscious triangle of frustration.

I want him to make love to me.  I begged for it and attemped, stupidly, to explain myself again.  The message goes unnoticed. 

I want to be happy.  I don't know if I believe that he can be the partner that walks with me into that happy place in my life.  No longer will I rely soley on a man to make that happiness for me, but I sure as hell do believe they need to be a part of it. 

I am no cat lady!  I'm not cold or bitter or ready to close anyone out.  I want him so much.  I love him so much.  But it is utterly confusing.  Just like when my marriage was ending.  It was warped with confusion.

I did not know up from down or left from right.  Everything smears and my life just is.  I don't want to just be anything.  I want to be amazing, loving, fulfilled, and fulfilling.

I don't expect to be president but I want to grow, be strong, and feel accomplished.  I lost my shot at presidency when I stood in front of the camera and became her best friend.  Photo after sexy photo... snapping away any life of publicity.  My brief stint as a webcam girl surely seeled the deal, if nothing previously had.

But I should be happy... past or not.  I want these things, and I deserve these things.  So either he will decide he can afford to give more hugs and kisses and passionate fucks... or I will find someone who will. ... I think.  ... Maybe.

Masterbation

No one wants to think or talk about... it.  But it is something we all do at some point or another.  I have had such a hard time acting this out in my lifetime.

When I was thirteen it was easy and enjoyable.  My only fear was being caught.  Probably naughtier than most I experimented with screaming and acting out my orgasms.  I was home alone, so it was no big deal... except to the cat that looked at me like I was positively insane.

Then there came a time when I just wasn't sure.  I decided that it just shouldn't have to happen.  As a woman I should never be 'in need' as there would always be a man there that wanted to hear, be a part of, or to satisfy me.

The phone calls started.  I'd be chatting online, playfully.  And then they'd want to call.  I began masterbating for them.  Letting them hear my screams, mmmms, and aahhhs.  Just the thought, made me hotter.  Knowing they could hear me and that they were loving it. 

The real sex began and it was hot.  I was never able to cum.  But I embraced the motions and his pleasure, whomever he was.  I'd let them do whatever they wanted.  I had no boundaries.  No ability to stop them or save myself from this mad spiral out of control.

The phase began where I did not allow myself any sexual pleasure without a man.  It felt misplaced.  I felt dirty, selfish, and unwanted.  No doubt the PTSD of several years of abuse.  But none the less, I would not let myself, enjoy... me, not without someone there to listen.

I'm growing back into myself.  Facing these fears in therapy, I have been growing.  Growing to love myself, accept myself, embrace myself.  It is 'okay' to feel pleasure on my own.  And more over I need to disconnect this sexuality from my emotional and physical value. 

I can run my fingers down my creamy white thighs without feeling guilt.  I can spread and lift lightly at my clit without wondering what he thinks or wants.  This is my body, my wetness.  The creamy lubrication is made for me to enjoy.  Spreading across my lips and up my navel to my nipples.  I can play however I want.

I tell him over and over I want it.  I want it so much.  I want to feel him and feel his cock slide inside me.  He doesn't give me nearly as much as I want.  This man that used to slide his tongue across my lips, so smoothly has turned off.  He has no desire to lick my wet hole anymore.  Where did this go?  Where did the desire go?  What have I done.

I have to fight the feelings that I have done something wrong.  Because clearly he has met a wall.  Clearly he has a blockage of his own to overcome.  I touch myself while I wait.  I lie in bed with the lights off and explore under the sheets.  It is safe to touch me.  It is safe to cum.  It is safe to enjoy my body.  But I want a man that wants to enjoy me too.  I deserve that.

Wanting More

I'm sick of wanting more.  I'm sick of feeling like I need to just get by.  Maybe I do want more than the average girl.  But none of what I want is big, difficult, or expensive.

I want his time, his attention, his love.  I want to feel appreciated and adored.  I want to feel that when I wake up I am waking up with someone who is as excited to be waking up next to me as I am excited waking up beside him.  Life is full of so much shit, filfth, complications... this should not be a piece of that struggle.

I do not believe relationships are easy.  I know that it takes work.  I am willing to work hard to make things doable.  To make the success at the end of the day feel like an accomplishment.  But there needs to be something inching me along, glimmering hope and presence.

I want honesty, friendship, admiration, appreciation, devotion, and loyalty.  A year older... I want more.  I feel I should be married already.  I feel I should own my own home.  I want to be a piece in someone's life that is irreplacable.  I want someone in mine that the thought of losing them breaks my heart clear in half. 

We were put here to matter, to love, to share... I cannot feel like I matter when one decides that they can and will go on without me.  The words echo in my ears, "I'm not going to lay around and cry all weekend, I am a big boy... I've been dumped before, and I know how to move on".  He is so ready to move on that he won't settle here.  He won't live or love here.

Sure we have a good relationship.  We like one another.  But he is closed.  Like a 3 million pound wall of steel.  There is no budging it, no tempting or coaxing.  I can't help him to open up again.  And I refuse to live with a closed human being.  Here I am the most open of all open human beings.  And I am stuck feeling misplaced and underloved because sharing that he does love me and is happy with me, is just more risk than he is willing to take.

I want to believe he can get better... but almost a year later I am running out of patience.  I need to feel adored.  I feel none of this.  Not by being told I'm beautiful.  Not by his telling me I'm wonderful.  Not by him whispering he is happy.  Nothing.  And I just can't keep telling myself to lay still while the tiger inches closer to its prey. 

... I've never broken up like this before.  Never left someone I knew I loved, knew I wanted, wished so desperately to have.  But I can't wait eternally and hurt in the process. 

I want loyalty, reflection, and love to carry me through my lifetime.

Happy Anniversary

I wanted to do something special.  I wanted to do something to remind him... I do wake up everyday and feel lucky to have him beside me. 

I pulled up the website to look at flowers.  There was a cute set of nothing too special wrapped in long grass swept into the shape of a heart.  Not too frilly, not too girly... but lovely enough to say I love you, happy anniversary. 

I texted my sister and told her I was ordering flowers.  She instantly chimed back that I wasn't supposed to buy flowers, that was his job.  It is what it is, I thought to myself.  What the hell else do I get?

So I googled it.  Pages of sales bullshit popped up.  Frames, ties, and more crap that would really mean nothing.  Sweeping through the words I ran across something I thought sounded interesting and quite fitting. sendapantygram.com

I looked into it further.  The general idea was to send a lacy red thong along with a suggestive note.  This note would lead him to a website where he could find a more explicit message.  The idea/gift fit us perfectly. 

I planned it all out.  I wrote my notes.  I ordered the delivery for the following day.  I reserved a hotel room for the following evening.  He would be all mine.  Kids and relatives aside... the day before new years... he is all mine.

That night I packed our bag without him noticing.  I packed my favorite toys, our swimsuits, toiletries, and clothes.  I was so excited.  I took a special trip to the liqueur store and purchased the one wine we both care and love to drink.  It was all set.  All that had to happen now was for the package to arrive and for me to receive his phone call asking me which hotel...

... the call never came.