I should be happy as a loon. I have just had the most amazing night with Sully. Ridiculously hot perfect kinky sex in the kitchen that caused dinner to be over an hour late. A deep conversation during dinner where he asked questions and I answered. A impromptu shared bath where we talked again.
I honestly feel like I am being hunted online. I used to argue when bullshit was said about me or to me online. I would blow up and fear everyone was not who they said. I obsessed with almost dead fear. I still do in some ways. I keep twitter account locked tight. I try and take steps n precautions. But the letters in the UK, the mind fuckery… Sometimes it gets a bit much. When it shakes even my best friend BL, veteran of the online since jump street, I know I am right to be worried.
SO many people in my tiny twitter have become as dear to me as lifelong friends. I watch their lives unfold, I laugh with them. Many many private conversations. Wonderful transitions to everyday life friends. In my darkest hours it was in my twitter TL where I was able to find even the smallest bit of oxygen. I have been messy online, lacking sophistication. Too honest for anonymity. With this blog and others past, I cleared my throat. I poured out my heartache. I put up REAL pics of me, trying to grow brave in a body that doesn’t feel like mine. And when Sully and I found our way into a relationship, the sheer joy, tearful gratitude I was overwhelmed with, came splashing out on twitter and here.
Sully worries about the level of stalking that I am coping with. He suggested maybe not blogging, erasing personal pics from twit.Quitting twit. But isn’t that sort of like stuffing the clowns back into the tiny car? My TL makes me think, inspires me, makes me laugh and cry and I pulled away slightly. I let some twisted fucks take that from me. It made me doubt people I have known a helluva long time. It made me sit here in the dark in tears. When I should be happy as a clam. Life is on the up and up. I want to write about it, all the details, the shocks and startles. The friends and love. Our friend took a pic of Sul and I, Friday morning. I was flushed face and tired in his shirt, perched on his lap. His arms holding me. For a min the contrast of our bodies took my breath away. I looked so soft, so young, so fucking damn happy. I stared at that pic tonight as I was supposed to be sleeping, and doubts crept in. Then I did the stupidest thing. I erased the pic.
Doubt has no place here in this bed in his house. This is my guy, my Lie and Die crew member. This my lover, this is my dream. Scared as I might be of the future, I know he is in it. As much as Andy hurt me and made me say never again, Sully is my exception. In my heart of hearts, I know when he says I wont hurt u, he wont. He wants to marry me. He wants to create a life to suit my son being a part of it, comfortably. He believes in my dreams.I showed a friend on twitter a pic of Suls from Friday. Not because he is heartbreakingly rugged and handsome. Because of his smile. You look at his face, his kind eyes and happy smile, it seeps through. I wanted her to see him looking at me, with the kindness and love that he does. I wanted her to know why I want nothing more than to please him. Other people from twitter have seen his pic in person. Its on my freaking phone screen. My best mate BL watches us unfold in front of him. He knows every story. He advises me. MY relationship shrink. LOL. And in his heart he knows all the way- that this is IT. This is my one. Considering what BL has been through with me, the personal cost from Mac then Andy whom he treated like a brother. This is a gift. Its funny, to the point of sad. Years ago after I lost my baby Joss and Mac, I was at BL’s house and I remember Bonnie, his wife, with tears in her eyes, describing the perfect man for me. I mean she had it all figured out. She described Sully to a tee, minus the fact that he is not a widower.LOL again.
I had intended to change my blog. To make it more. To share the bits that happen. Love, sex, kink, anger,music, books, fear, thoughts, motherhood. New careers, growing older, dreams,travel… and more Sex.. To throat clear for me and by me. Words are my scrapbook. They are how I mark my life. A tattoo on my heart..I have never been like this about any man. That’s saying something. Sully doesn’t want to play games.He doesn’t want me to hop through hoops or tame my wild heart. He knows all the players in life. He has been a part of me for so long. He chooses me, he wants me. He raises his lance with my color tied to the end. In silence or endless chatter we never have an awkward gap. He lets me fuss over him and look after him and he spoils me. He acts like he is lucky to have me. He is my sea glass, tumbled smooth by the tumultuous sea of our lives. I finally got the fairy tale. The real one with frogs that stay frogs and two people with weathered bodies.
I say this next bit fighting so damn hard not to sob. I don’t take selfies out of vanity. I take them to search for any pieces of me that are left. To mark a time in my life. To preserve a memory. He takes pics of me to show me what he sees. I share here, imperfect and vulnerable. Because I so desperately want to see in myself what others see in me. What I see in the picture of participants of Sinful Sunday. Glee, lust, stillness, imperfect perfection. Skill, shades of passion. Humor, breasts, cocks, tongues, legs, From Wookies to Corset beauties. From the stunning self portraits of Molly to the Rope suspensions worthy of Cirque du Soleil.. I find, within those pictures, pieces of myself. I feel my lust. My admiration.
I have had a really hard life, as many have. I don’t want much. I don’t want pity or forced friendships. I don’t want to one up u or make u feel less or jealous. I don’t want to be exclusive or mocking. I am not perfect. I get mad, I misunderstand. When I am scared, I am not always the most present friend. But if you are my friend or acquaintance, I can guarantee u one thing. I will love u hard and loyal. I will listen, I will hold u. I will keep your secrets. I won’t play you or use u. If you need me, I wont let u go it alone. Show me the body and I will warm up the wood chipper.
Nobody needs to hate me this much.. If I have done something wrong, tell me. Don’t creep me and my friends. Don’t play these games. Because I have survived the unthinkable. I wouldn’t have wished what I lived through ,with these past years on my worst enemy. Which is why Andy is not in jail now. I don’t want anything at all,except true and honest peace.
Sully healed a hurt I have carried since I was a child. I don’t clip flowers in my hair for a father that didnt want me anymore. I clip them in my hair for Sully. The feeling of being an unwanted pound puppy is fading as the weeks go by. He loves a body broken by man and nature and he is proud to. He too needs an unshakable love. A bedroom that knows no judgement, whether I am his slut or his princess bride. He needs to know I see him. He needs my encouragement. He sleeps better knowing a woman who slayed dragons stands at his six, beside him and sometimes behind him.
I am his velveteen rabbit, spots rubbed bare. His favorite. His best. For a chick like me, that’s the rainbow and gold..That’s the love song. The dying day. The cricket’s chatter. When he kisses me a certain way, I find that lost little girl who wasn’t wanted by anyone and she is smiling. When he pushes into me, with rude growling words. He sets my wild horses free. I can ask for any pleasure or thought. He is a watercolor. He is oak adorned with moss. He is home, after home was blown away. He makes the hardest of men tear with his deep love for me.
I sat under a table in a freezing cold UK pub drinking whiskey and wondered how could I survive another night last year. I thought the only way out was death. A twitter friend had me call him. We talked about everything and nothing. I remember him telling me with a quiet poetry about how he loved this girl. The words and ways he described her broke my heart. He was devoted. He was soulful. He was what every young girl dreams of and every woman remembers hoping for. He saw this girl’s wild and he encouraged it. He worshipped the fact that she was a lonely desert’s dream. He ignored her everyday and looked deeper to her extraordinary. Tears dripped as I found myself wistful and a lil jealous. Why could all of my friends see these same things in me but my lovers could not? Why was I sitting under a table watching blood drip into my whiskey from the cut on my head?Why was I an ocean away from all I held dear to my heart? Now this friend, beams with sweet bearded soulful grins as I tell him how happy I am. This amazing friend from twitter. That is why I need my lil place online. Cameraderie, intellectual discourse. Bitching about weather and sports. Wrinkle creams to sex toys. Lost pregnancies to births. Hums in the road to mountain peaks. To say I am so happy with this man and to hear a genuine, you have no idea how happy this makes me reply.
I stared writing this hours ago, having cried most of the night silently. I wasn’t going to post it, just vent to myself.Unable to sleep I went out to Sully’s living room. Tuned Es guitar and softly began playing. I was working on a really good version of a song the friend above shared with me. Playing, picking out the strum. Singing ever so in a whisper. The night surrounding me, sadness warring within. My Honey Twang came quietly creeping. In boxers and a Tshirt he grabbed the half bottle of wine n two glasses. Nodding his head in continue. I started over. Swallowing the frog of tears. I sang the memorized lyrics as I played. At the end I just looked at him. Again he said.
And that describes in a way I cant express verbally, why I love Sully with a completeness I have never known before.Because he got up in the darkest hour, heard me and embraced me and asked for more. At 3am.
Drivin’ northbound, drivin’ homeward, drivin’ wind is drivin’ me
And it just seems so funny that I always end up here,
Walkin outside in the storm while looking way up past the tree-line
It’s been some time…Give me darkness when I’m dreaming
Give me moonlight when I’m leaving
Give me shoes that weren’t made for standing
Give me tree-line, give me big sky, get me snow-bound, give me rain clouds give me a bed time…just sometimesNow you’re talkin in my room, but there ain’t nobody here
Cuz I’ve been driving like a trucker, I been burnin’ through the gears
I’ve been training like a soldier, I’ve been burnin’ through this sorrow,
And the only talkin lately is that background radio…
You were my friend, and I was the same
Riding that hope was like catching some train
Well now I just walk, well I dont mind the rain
But I’ve been singing so much softer than I did back then
The night, I think, is darker than we can really say
And god’s been living in that ocean, sending us all the big waves
And I wish I was a sailor so I could know just how to trust,
Maybe I could bring some grace back home to the dryland for all of us
Say what you say, you say it so well
Just say you will wait, like snow on the rail
I been combing that train yard for some kind of sign
Even my own self, it just don’t seem mine
Give me darkness when I’m dreaming, give me moonlight when I’m leaving
Give me mustang horse and muscle, cuz I wont be goin gentle
Give me slant-eye looks when I’m lying, give me fingers when I’m crying
And I aint out there to cheat you, see I killed that damn coyote in me…