Rake The Coals To Stoke The Fire

Or: It Burns Us, It Does!

Mr. S offered (apropos of nothing) to show me a Valentine's Day note he received from one of his other harem members. In a coup of personal brilliance, I allowed him to send the damn thing on.

Why, oh why, do I do this to myself?

It was *exactly* what I needed, reading about his emotional intimacy with another person. After a year and a half, I've still only got Pretty Eyes. I'm still Not Really A Girlfriend. She? She has "adoration", "fulfillment", "laughter and sharing", and (natch) "amazing sex".

It doesn't take a psych degree to see that I have my own baggage train of issues if I am sticking with a guy who isn't into me. In his defense, he did bring me a spiffy hand-made LED light-up V-Day card. However, I could have crawled under a rock and died when he casually asked me when the last time I received anything on V-Day was. I said, "It's been a while," and he asked "How long?" Ten years. I was 19 and a sophomore in college when Number One bought me two roses a week early because he "didn't believe in holidays." Ten fucking years. Ten years of fucking. And not one partner has thought to show me any generosity, on that day or any other.

I have always felt that it is better to be alone than in a bad relationship. But how do you call a relationship bad when it's the best you've ever had? For all his faults and failings (and there are many), no one in my life has been kinder to me than Mr. S. And yet ...

I don't think good things are supposed to feel like this.

Valentines for Spinsters

Yesterday, Mr. S brought me a pseudo-Valentine's Day card.

Smash

Tonight, I mushed my middle finger between the tailgate of my truck and the windy bit on the tongue of the trailer I was about to unhook. It is bruised under the nail and sore as hell all over.

This means two [three] things:

1) Typing is going to be one handed for a while.

2) As I am left handed in general, this also means masturbation is right out.

[3) I am going to be wearing nail polish and/or gloves for a long while, as this is going to get ugly. *sigh* ]

What. The. Fuck. ?!?!

So, my sex drive went AWOL sometime in August. I left messages, sent mail, went knocking on it's door ... all with no response. I still saw Mr. S regularly and enjoyed it, but it wasn't the same. Things were off.

And yet suddenly, when life is as bad as it's ever been, my sex drive has come back in full force. Shazam! I can't stop thinking about it, and all I want to do all day is masturbate. Or play with Mr. S. Or do both. Or even find another person I can play with.

It is a crying shame that with this insane asylum that is my life I don't have the privacy to really pursue any of those options. Not really. Not in the screaming, messy, orgasm in each room of the house sort of way that is truly satisfying.