Be Careful What You Ask For

The last week has opened my eyes. I realize this is a long time coming. And a lot of people are probably going to tell me, "I told you so." But a heart can't be rushed into decisions like the one mine made last night.
I am done with "him." Done as in no more "visits." Done as in I'm no longer the mat for him to wipe his feet on. You can't take the best parts of me and not give me something in return.
I won't get into details as to what happened that brought me to this place. I will say that I should have known better than to ever think a relationship would work in my favor.
A friend called last night to see how I was doing. He told me he was worried about me. He didn't think it was good the way I only leave my house to go to work or the store. He was concerned that I was falling too far into the dark well of being single that Iwould never find my way out. He told me to get out - meet people. He told me to meet someone who will care about me for me.
I have to agree with him. I think it may be too late.

I Think I've Figured It Out

I've spent the last few weeks trying to figure out what the void is that is ever present. As happy as I am with all that is taking place for me, I have still felt as if something is missing. My job is going in the direction I need it to be in order to succeed at the goals I've set. The house is coming along as well as can be expected on the budget I live on. My family relations are as good as I can hope. My relationship with "him" is as good as I can hope for given the road blocks he continually puts in my path.
So, what is this missing link? Passion. The very fuel that keeps the human spirit running at full throttle. I lack it. And not in the form of drive to accomplish the goals I've set - lord knows I have plenty of that. I lack the passion provided by another human being. The desire. The heat. The sensation.
I have an ex-boyfriend, we'll call him John, who wonders into my thoughts on a regular basis. We only dated for 3 or 4 months - but they were the most eye-opening, sexually intensified months of my life. He taught me things and showed me things I never thought I'd be interested in, much less take part in. And it was as simple as candles, massage oil, and music - as involved as porn, bondage, and positions that you could only imagine. But that was John. That was what made him tick. He loved sex. He loved the female body. He knew how to bring that body to life. He enjoyed feeling good and making his partner feel as good as he did.
I'm not saying that "he" doesn't do that. He has his moments. But he's older and our time together is usually after a long day of work. He's settled in his routine. He's done his experimenting. And because he's at a more "practiced" level he naturally expects me to be there with him. It's not that he isn't willing to work to please me, it just doesn't occur to him that he may need to help me along. I love him. I'm not intimidated by him in any way. If he does something I don't like I'm comfortable enough to tell him. And when I give suggestions he's good about trying to implement them into our time together. But I miss the spontaneity. I miss the element of surprise. I miss being seduced. And while he is very stimulating visually and physically, I find that sex with him is sometimes too comfortable.
Does this mean I'm looking for greener pastures? No. Because what John had in the bedroom he lacked in the important areas of trust, dependability, commitment. "He" still has some work to do on the commitment and dependability areas - but given his personal situation right now I can hardly hold it against him. But I know I can trust him. I know that I can be honest with him. Above all else, I know that he respects me. And that is one thing that John could never do. As much as he loved women and sex - women were just props - much like the candles, porn, and positions.
I guess it comes down to what is more important: passion or love? At this point in my life, knowing what I want to see happen in the next few years, I'm going to go with love.
Once again, "He" won out.

The Mask

I wake up in the morning.
Wipe the sleep out of my eye.
The memory of last night's dream
So strong I want to cry.
But crying is not an option
When it comes to loving you.
I have to keep a mask on
And pray you can't see through.

I go about my day
The mask firmly in place.
One single moment's weakness
Is a total fall from grace.
You expect my heart to void
All the feelings that I feel.
But the layers of love are deep.
Regardless of how far you peel.

In the safety of my bed at night
I finally remove the mask.
And hope my dreams are free of you -
That is all I ask.
But I know that when I wake up
Your memory will be there again.
And I'll have to wear the mask
For another day to begin.

Random Thoughts I've Been Having

Taking a break from the soap opera that is my life (as my friend Tera is fond of calling it) I thought I'd share a few of my recent random thoughts.

• I have decided that is my life's ambition to be wealthy enough to be able to afford to decorate my ENTIRE house in items you would find in a Pottery Barn magazine. They have really nice shit that looks expensive and yet not so pricey that if you sit on it, eat on it, or touch it it's going to break.
• I got my recent copy of Lucky magazine (a fashion mag for those not in the loop) and while I was flipping through the projected fall trends I found myself making facial expressions of disgust at many of the items. Sweaters, pants, boots (what is up with the wedges!?), hand bags and makeup ideas that were anything but good looking. Is there any place in the world that people actually dress that way on a regular basis? New York or LA, maybe? UGH!
• Love bugs suck! They do awful things to the paint on your car. Have the tendency to cling to your clothes thus finding their way into the office/house. Annoying.
• A girl our office just hired is something of a hardcore kinda chick. She is covered in tattoos and piercings and proudly proclaims her preference for black men rather than white. She's one of those girls that is white as snow yet would probably give anything to be black as night. (don't get me wrong -she's nice and has done quite well with her position) We were talking the other day about where I grew up and how moving to Florida was quite an eye opening experience. I told her about 3 traffic light towns, country music, and Amish buggies. She told me I was sheltered. I assured her that there were things I had seen in life that she never would. She was quick to "boast" that she had been much more exposed to life than I had - as if it's a competition. I asked her if she'd ever seen an Amish buggy. Had she ever watched the birthing of a farm animal? Does she know what it's like to go to a high school where you know EVERYONE in all GRADES? She answered no to all the questions. And yet, I'm the sheltered one? Why is it assumed that the more bad things you see in life the more exposed you are? Why can't good experiences ever be considered? Of course, I didn't even start on the whole "my biological father is in prison" line of my life. It's easier to let her think I'm all sugar and no spice.

Nights Like This

It is common knowledge that women are the queens of mood swings. But I invite everyone to take a good long look at men. While their mood swings may not be as dramatic or as predictable as time, they are sometimes way more annoying than a woman's simply because they aren't accustomed to them. They don't know how to handle them. And they definitely tend to over react.
After the long talk "he" and I had a few weeks ago things have been fairly good between us. It isn't perfect for so many obvious reasons, but for our given situation things are tolerable. Until tonight.
He called to check in like he does most evenings. He asked me about my day, I asked him about his. We made small talk about work and the people we encounter. He mentioned taking some time off. I told him not to use it all up - we still have our trip to the Bahamas to plan for. He kinda laughed and said, "I'm not going to the Bahamas, man." I asked him what he meant. He said he'd already been there and wasn't going back. I told him I was counting on him to go with me. Who else would I take? He said, "Why don't you take Tyson?" I told him I didn't want to take Tyson, I wanted to take him. He then says, "Don't go getting all whiney on me, now." That pissed me off. I wasn't getting whiney. He'd already told me before he'd go with me. We had 18 months to plan for it. I reminded him of that and he said, "Well, we'll see." I said, "I guess that means I better find someone else to go then." He kinda huffed a little then changed the subject.
Just because the subject turned to something that would require just a smidge of commitment it wasn't something he wanted to discuss.
I had asked him if we could get together for dinner this week. He said yeah, maybe Tuesday. I told him if we had dinner Tuesday, he should know there would be no "dessert." That didn't set well with him. I asked what exactly he wanted me to do about it - it's not like I WANT my monthly visit. It happens. We just have to go with it. I told him he shouldn't schedule our time together so far apart.
And this is what pissed me off. It's all about the sex. When he wants, where he wants, how he wants. And I know a lot of that is because his ex never wanted it - ever. But damn. There are 2 of us in this, and nights like this make me want to just jump ship completely. I'm being patient. I've given him his space and time. I'm allowing him to call the shots. But give me something. Nights like this - I want to throw in the towel. Nights like this I wonder where that sweet man is that I fell for.

Just Go to Hell

"He" was by today and as he was walking out the door this is all I wanted to say to him.
He's running another ad for the boys. Trying to find a home for them. "Trying to take them off my hands." What the fuck ever.
He comes in and doesn't even say hi to me. Didn't even fucking acknowledge my presence in the room until 10 minutes had passed. Plays with the boys for a half hour or so. Lays on the couch, putting his feet in my lap. We talk a few minutes - then he offers me "the invitation."
Yeah, I took it. It's been almost 2 weeks since I've seen him. Things are going ok and I was actually kind of impressed because he was hanging in there a lot longer than normal. Then he looks up at me and is like, "Dang! Are you ever going to finish?"
EXCUSE ME!? At what point did you, mother fucker? I try to play it off even though I'm slightly hurt and embarassed by my inability to come quick enough for him. But to be completely honest I don't recall ever "finishing" the "traditional way." Give me some toys or some stimulation and maybe. But damn!
So I go in the other room to calm myself down - come out and pour myself a drink. Needless to say I went to a seperate chair. He laid down with the boys. Watched some football. We talked a little more about men and women and relationships - then he left. No hug, no kiss. He thanked me for the boys and offered more money - I turned it down. Told him I didn't need his money. Said he was trying to find a place for them to get them off my hands. And he was gone.
He may be by tomorrow - don't do me any favors.