I am seriously considering letting this blog die out.

 

It already is, in a way, with how infrequently I post here.

 

I can’t imagine it getting any better either, what with grad school and the various work-things I have going on.  I have even less time than I used to.

 

And this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.  It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault or anything, I think I’ve just changed so much that coming back here feels weird and uncomfortable (at times).

 

At the same time, discarding this blog makes me feel very sad.

 

So I’m torn, sitting here, unsure of what to do.  Wondering if I don’t want to write here because I don’t want to think about certain things, or because I’ve changed due to negative things and I don’t want to confront it, or if it really is a simple “not that girl anymore” mentality.  Maybe I just don’t want to work so hard at being healthy anymore.

 

Or I want to shed this place like a skin and start over.

 

That sounds so nice.

 

But I’d feel so sad giving this place up.  I have a lot of good memories here, made good friends, had good conversation.

 

In the meantime, I don’t even know what my last update said.

 

Job is done.  I’ve moved back in with my parents.  Bryn and I are currently only engaging in conversation by text and email because we’re working together and talking on the phone or seeing him in person makes me super emotional and I’m just not moving past him.

 

It’s weird.  I’ve never had such difficulty in getting over someone.  But there you go.  I only can hope that, in a few years, our respective traumas sort themselves out and we can date again, have a better relationship than we did.  He hopes for the same, so that’s a good sign.

 

I got a temporary job that I wanted… pretty jazzed about that.

 

And the script writing is going swimmingly.  I’m apparently a natural.

 

Got a job (unpaid) writing a weekly column for a news website.  Looking forward to that.  Finally got a foot in the door at a decent site.  Need to get on that soon.

 

Grad school is incredibly different than “regular” school.  No one ever told me this.  I thought it would be the same, just more work.  I thought wrong.  I’m planning on taking as many workshops as I can in order to get up to speed on all the undergrad stuff I missed.  Need to find out about scholarships, grants, and financial aid as well.  I really don’t want to have to devote all of my income to tuition and I’m never going to take out a student loan if I can help it.

 

Things with my dad are… well, rocky, as always.  Trying to approach things from a different angle, see if it works better than tactics in the past.  So far, so good, but I’ve only been here for two weeks.

 

Oh, and as for “unemployment”?  HA.  I do more work now between school, family errands, housework, working out, studying, and scripts than I did at my nine to five.  I feel more productive, at least.  Thought I’d have more time for my own writing endeavors, but I’m still working my schedule out.  I’m so freaking busy right now, which is good, but still…

 

Anyhow, I’m going to attempt to sleep.  We’ll see how that works out.

 

More when there’s more.

This blog is starting to feel like another, older life.

 

Weird how quickly that can happen.

 

Well, I’m just a couple of weeks away from moving out, finishing my job, and starting school.  Already, my textbooks are winging their way to me via the delightful services of USPS.  An entire class seems to be focused on the writings of David Foster Wallace.  I’ve heard really good things about him… and really bad.  We’ll see if I actually enjoy his work.

 

Most of my apartment’s contents have been broken down and moved out.  I got rid of hundreds and hundreds of books– donated them to a local library.  Kitchen is packed up, nearly everything in my closet is gone except for the clothes, a bookcase, and a large filing cabinet.

 

I have a large closet.

 

Really, it could have been a bedroom if I felt like downsizing to a twin or full.

 

Finished my first script for one company, am about a quarter to a third of the way through on my second.  Was planning on trudging my way through it tonight some, but I’m really tired and am not in the space for focusing on a project with how much my mind is wandering.

 

Went to a friend’s birthday party on Tuesday.  It was at his cousin’s place out on a marina.  Gorgeous condo-thing.  They had a French Bulldog that was one of the most absolutely delightful dogs I have ever met.  I was going to attach handles to him and pretend he was my purse so I could kidnap him.  Ended up playing a sort of party-game-thing-sorta as a test drive for these single’s parties my friend is trying to put together– had a blast.

 

Wednesday night was spent curled up in a coffee shop working on this script.  Tonight some friends and I went out for Lebanese.  There was a guy who came with us, decent enough guy, but, man, did he have a major jones for my friend’s wife.  I thought, from his looks and behavior, that he was about 22, but it turns out he was 30.  Surprised the hell out of me.  I’m usually not that far off from my age estimates.

 

Anyhow, it’s pass out time.  I need to stay up until about 4AM tomorrow to throw off my sleep schedule for the weekend so I can go to a particular event.  Fun times.

Well, the pre-moving process continues.

 

Kitchen was boxed up and put in my parents’ attic.  I spent most of this evening finishing going through two of my bookcases to see what I could get rid of.

 

Now I have a couple hundred books in the backseat of my car destined to be donated to the local library tomorrow, after work.  I’ve got another fifty or so that are actually worth something on Amazon, so that’ll be another thing to do this week.  Now I’ve got about four boxes worth to be stored in the garage and another box that needs to go to my bedroom for reference material for my writings.

 

Not bad for two full-size bookcases.

 

Now I just need to do the other two.  Sigh.

 

But at least I won’t have the trailer full of books when I move this time.  Yay.

 

It is actually kinda nice.  I like shedding belongings, especially after major life changes like a break-up or a move.  Since I vaguely recently had one happen and am about to have another happen, it’s good to be doing.  Stuff weighs you down.  I like knowing that, aside from furniture, I can fit everything I own into a small trailer and still have room.

 

My parents, on the other hand… eesh.  I’ve been out cleaning their garage and attic to have room for my stuff.  Everything is kept.  We have something like three ice chests, four thermoses (thermosii?), a couple tents, and god knows what else… and we haven’t been camping in a decade.  But it’s “just in case” when they’re retired.

 

I’m not sure if that’s smart or not.

 

Sure, they’ll have twenty to fifty (yes, it’s true) year old thermoses (thermosii?) when they are retired, and they’ll probably be able to use them and save however much a thermos costs these days.

 

But, at the same time, it’s one of four items that has been floating around the garage like a hobo taking up space and falling off of things for the last years.

 

Not to mention, you can probably get the same thermoses (thermosii?) from Goodwill for $1.50.  And now, I’m sure, there are super nice ones out that have TVs and two-way radios on them and stuff, which make just the simple thermoses (thermosii?) really cheap brand new.

 

But they keep everything.

 

I don’t know about my mother’s side of the family, as her father died when I was five and I believe they never had a good deal of stuff… not to mention my grandmother slowly lost her marbles and went from one place to a smaller place to a smaller place over the course of fifteen years or so, which means that by the time she died there wasn’t a lot of stuff to dig through and sort and try to find homes for.

 

But my dad’s side… they had a house and garage full of stuff.  And, on top of that, they had a shed.  Well, they had two sheds.  One of the sheds was what you’d expect from a shed.  The other one was over two stories tall and you could park three RVs in it side by side.

 

When my grandmother died, we had to get moving *trucks* and empty that thing out load after load.  It took months to get that place sorted out.

 

And I know that, when my parents die, if they do not go the route of my mother’s mother, I’m going to be sitting in their house with my sister digging through these piles of boxes trying to figure out what to save and what to toss and which of us gets what items and we’ll keep stuff we don’t need to keep because we will be so falling all over ourselves weeping that everything will have ten times the sentimental value that it would normally have.

 

This is why I need a husband.  Well, eventually.  Because I’ll totally lose my marbles at that point and I’ll need a steadying hand.

 

Wow, I’m living in the 50s.

 

Well, anyhow, back to my point– is the money saved worth the constant mental weight of having these items flooding your living space?  And what about the people that come after who have to dig through all these things?  Would the noble thing really be to sell everything you own at the age of 80 and buy an RV so the clean-up is minimal and your grandkids can reenact the final round of “The Price is Right”?

 

My parents horde.  My mother more so.

 

I horde… books.  Paper scraps.  Pictures.  Movies.  Until I don’t.  And then 90% of them get flung away to others.  Well, not the paper scraps.  You know what I mean.

 

Anyhow, I’m sore, I’m tired.  I got a call today from the one interview I went on last week telling me they’d like to offer me a job but they can’t yet because they’re waiting for some new accounts so they may not be able to offer until October.  In the interview, he said he wanted to hire by the end of July.  Waaah.  I want out.  I’m going to call him again in a month (if I don’t hear from him before then) and poke at him.

 

I want my life to start.  I want to get to where I can focus on school and writing.  Have a job by my house.  Not put 2000+ miles on my car a month commuting to work and school.  I want to be able to sleep in.  I want to be able to pursue my goals.  Want want want.  I’m taking steps but it’s taking so much longer than I want it to take.  I hate waiting once I’ve made a decision.  I’m an action girl.  Decision made = do stuff now.

 

Graarrrr.

I’d like to say that I haven’t been avoiding this blog.

 

I have been.

 

The last post was so depressing for me.  And I’m still not really up to blogging like I used to, trying to hit the personal depths that I used to.

 

Everything hurts, when I go too deep.  I’ll have to dive in eventually, but not yet.  No, not yet.

 

Well, on the superficial level… I was accepted into grad school last month.  That was pretty exciting, one of the most perked up events I’ve had happen in awhile.  I went to orientation (my first since high school that I’ve bothered to attend) and registered for classes for this coming semester.

 

I wrote a script for one of the major porn companies.  One of the parodies that’s so popular nowadays.  If it continues on the path that it’s supposed to, it should start filming in late August or early September.  Theory is that Ron Jeremy and Evan Stone will be in it.  So that’s neat.

 

I’ve decided to quit my job and move back in with my parents for the course of grad school… or at least as long as I can handle it.  The theory is that I’ll get a part-time day job, join the honors club for my major, apply at the writing tutoring center, and then focus the rest of my free time on writing and promoting my writing.

 

I’m glad to be moving home, in a way.

 

I’ve been having health problems.  Something’s wrong with my body and, well, my company’s shitty health insurance doesn’t cover quality doctors.  Waiting for test results so I can go to a good doctor and pay out of pocket.

 

It’s stressful.  It’s worrying.  I was knocked on my ass for a couple days three weeks ago, mostly in bed.

 

It’s annoying.  Here I am, exercising regularly, eating well, and my body decides to rebel anyway.  Thanks.

 

Bryn and I are still hanging out a couple times a week and, when he’s not being psychotically busy, having sex.  Which, really, means once every two weeks.  Because of all the movies going on, we rarely have alone time.

 

Which is probably for the best.

 

It’s not like I’ve had a sex drive, really.  When we had sex the other night, first time in forever, I wasn’t even wanting it for the sake of sex or arousal, but just the deep physical contact.

 

Weird how quickly things shift.

 

The plan is that, once I get the school/moving thing out of the way, we’re going to take a break from seeing each other.  Let me try to recover, get some emotional distance.

 

I’m actually doing better, in regards to him.  I’m not as weepy as often.  I’m not as set on him.

 

However, I’m realizing that, after him and GV8, I have this almost subconscious belief that I just don’t get to have normal relationships anymore.  I can’t imagine what being in a monogamous relationship with a man would be like.  Where he would want to be with me and only me, want to work on a future shared life together.

 

How bizarre would that be?

 

Speaking of bizarre… went out to dinner with C and some friends earlier this evening.  Looked at a bar across the street from the restaurant and saw the guy who got me pregnant when I was 17.  Had the abortion exactly ten years from this Sunday.  Haven’t seen him since then.

 

Then he pops up across the street from me in an entirely different city.  Of course.

 

So, tomorrow, I’m heading out to my parents’ to take a load of boxes to put in their attic.  A friend who has a small business selling antiques and vintage items is going to be going through a stack of boxes in their garage to see what is sellable.  So I’ll have room to put my own boxes.

 

It’s weird, moving back, after all that happened.  It makes me nervous, but at the same time I know I can just couch-surf again if I need.  I also know that I really, really want to quit my current job.  It’s tempting to think that I could wrote on my writing more than I’m able to now, that I’d be able to truly devote time to pursuing the maximization of my education.

 

Anyhow, I’m falling asleep.  Went to the Harry Potter midnight show last night.  Only got four hours of sleep, and I’m a sleep wuss.  I need eight or nine to be happy functional.  Blergh.  Zzzz.

I do believe that the problem with this blog has become that it reminds me of Bryn.

 

So I’m avoiding it because, wow, it makes me painfully aware that we aren’t dating.

 

Things have been going fine, life-wise.  Not so much emotionally.  Fortunately, I’m pretty good at treading water, getting things done despite my emotional turmoil.

 

As long as it isn’t panic.  Then things get a little hairy.

 

I’m not in a good place right now, mentally.  Emotionally.  Heart-wise.

 

I feel unloved.  I feel like I’m not worthy of love.  (If there’s any echos of PUAs floating around reading this thing still, no, it’s not because of my sexual history.  Get over it.)  I feel like I’m too quirky, too damaged, not mature enough, not together enough.  I’m an oddball and I’m weak and vulnerable and simply not good enough to love.

 

Example one: Bryn.  Never could love me, romantically.

 

Example two: GV8, who said he loved me, then retracted that statement once we split and apparently said it was simply pity for my life situation or somesuch.

 

Example three: Darkeyes, who loved his wallowing depression more than he could ever love me.

 

Really, Darkeyes is just tossed in there to make the list look longer.  I don’t consider him much because he’s an idiot.

 

So I keep thinking that if I’m smart enough, educated enough, thin enough, financially together enough, accomplished enough, maybe someone will overlook all of my neuroses and manage to love me.

 

I’m depressed.  I’m frustrated.  I’m so sad and lonely all the time.  Me, the girl who almost never felt lonely, only alone, is now constantly lonely.

 

I’m angry sometimes, too.  Angry at men who should have handled themselves better.  Angry at men for things they did that, honestly, should be expected.  It’s not quite a rational anger.  It’s a hurt anger.  It’s a “I’ve been rejected, so now I will reject” anger.

 

I’m so miserable.  I don’t know quite what to say about that.  If I’m not distracted by something, I fall into misery.  Depression.  Hurt.

 

And it’s sad.  It has been a month or two, whatever, and I’m still hurting, still not recovering like I used to.  I feel so wrong inside sometimes.  And so lonely.  So abandoned and left behind.  I want comfort, I want Bryn.  I want not to hurt so much every day.  I want to feel like I’m not busted up.  I want to be content with where I am and striving towards making things even better, like I was.

 

I want to be someone who just moves past this pain like an adult.  But I’m not.  Moving past this pain.  Maybe not an adult.  I don’t know.  Both, maybe.  Probably.

 

Just curl up in bed and cry for a bit.  Wish I didn’t feel like this every day.  Wish that this was healing with time like it has every other time in the past.  Still feels fresh.

 

Bryn keeps asking me if it’s because we’re still being friends.  I don’t think it is, but I could be wrong and not realize it.  It’s so good to have him in my life.  The thought of him not being there, even for a few months, makes me want to break down sobbing.  So weak.  So very weak.

 

Wish I knew why this was hurting so much this time.  Wonder if ripping off the band-aid that is Bryn would do any good, or just cause more damage.  It feels like more damage.  Wish I could stop this self-loathing.  Wish I could convince myself I was worthy of another human being’s love.  Worthy of my own.  Wish every day didn’t just drag me down.  Wish when I was acting happy and upbeat, it wasn’t just acting.

 

But there you go.  Wishes.

Well, school is out for the semester.  Oh, the sweet, sweet relief that comes with finals being over.

 

I’m now a total spaz when it comes to finals and midterms.  Not the actual doing of them, but of the panic I go into because I now associate horrible things happening around the times these papers are due.  Absolutely nothing could be wrong, but I assume that something unexpected will happen and the world will be doomed.

 

Or my part of the world.  Whatever.

 

Things are going interestingly, I suppose.  I’ve taken up running, as I’ve mentioned in prior entries.  Doing it fairly regularly, as much as my schedule allows anything to be regular.  Still doing the dance classes as well.

 

Bryn and I are doing well as friends.  Well, friends that act like a couple when we’re in each other’s presence and have a lot of sex.

 

Yeah, I know.

 

It’s weird.  I mean, it’s not weird.  It’s weird that it isn’t weird.  It seems fine.  I don’t feel like I’m being used or manipulated, as I worried initially.  He’s someone I care about and love and want to be happy.  I’m someone he cares about and loves and wants to be happy.  We have good sexual chemistry.  We just aren’t at a good spot to be dating right now.

 

We both hope we will be in the future.

 

So he’s off working and being insanely busy being Mr. Porn Director, and I’m off working and being insanely busy and trying to get my stuff together mentally.

 

And I’ve been dating.  Well, sorta.  Not dating with any long-term intent.  Just this guy.  This incredibly hot guy.  This incredibly hot, amazing in bed (thus far… we haven’t had sex, but he 100% is the best head I’ve ever had).  We enjoy each other’s company and share a lot of the same interests, so it’s easy to be around each other.  However, he’s running a lot of scripts.

 

By scripts I mean that he’s got a lot of stories that he’s told girls over and over in order to garner certain responses that ultimately lead to sexy time.  Whether or not he realizes he’s doing it, I don’t know.  I do know that it’s unlikely that I’ll sleep with him until he stops trying to run these scripts on me.  I’d actually like to know who I’m sleeping with, not just who they have set themselves up to be in order to get a lot of sex.

 

And he’s had a lot of sex with a lot of different people.  More than Bryn, more than GV8.  Maybe more than the two of them combined.

 

Yeah, I know.  How do I find these guys?

 

So we’ve gone out a couple times.  It’s been good.  We’ve had fun.  I’m distracted and enjoying myself when I’m with him.  I don’t see him as often as I would like for my sexual needs, but I’ve also got Bryn (when he hasn’t been eaten by the pornbeast).

 

Yes, I know.  This is such a superficial entry.  Generic catch-up.

 

Emotionally, I’m up and down all day nearly every day.  The littlest thing upsets or delights me and it makes me worry that I’m more unstable than I ever have been in the past.  I’m concerned that I’m taking after my father in the manic-depressive way, but I hope not.  I’m hoping that this is situational, that this is me reacting to a lot of stress with Bryn and school and family and the last two years catching up with me.

 

Because, really, it was a intense set of years.

 

I’m lonely.  I want someone to talk to, someone to really talk to.  Someone I can look up to on all levels, admire, take advice from.  Find someone who is living the life I want to be living and sit at their feet and write to them, talk to them, get help sorting all of this out.  I miss the companionship, the sex, the intimate bonding.  I miss the physical contact I need so much to stay sane.

 

But I’m trying to isolate myself.  Still haven’t been able to have sex, anyway.  Still can’t do a casual thing.  Would love to.  Certainly had some attractive offers.  But I just can’t get my head there.

 

Wonder if I will ever be able to again.  It’d be nice, I think.

 

And I’m working on this thing with the guy I’ve been seeing.  Hoping I’ll get to that point where we can have sex.  Hoping that he’ll be the one that hits my reset button, because I’m having issues doing so.

 

I want to be back to be strong again.  To being disconnected, emotionally, from the sex.

 

Oh.  Also.  Was out at the club GV8 and I met at and I ran into some of his friends.  Asked them if GV8 was at the club as well (it was packed).  They said, no, he had gotten a house and moved to Las Vegas almost a year ago.

 

Almost a year ago we were engaged.

 

So after I said no, he packed up or sold his business (or something), gave up on the swing club/loft, and relocated to Vegas.  Whether or not the two things are related, I do not know.

 

 

But I was floored.  Floored and distressed.  I left the club shortly after that.  Went to another club.  Tried to dance.  Stumbled a few times, like I do when I’m deeply upset, then gave up and went to Bryn’s.

 

I miss him.  Bryn says he’s toxic to me.  That he’s always going to be a weak spot of mine.  I had thought that, after a year, the thought of him wouldn’t effect me so intensely… but it does.  I supposed that’s a sign of a lack of resolution.

 

And I still remember him so well.  Of the single week we were engaged.  Of the time before that.  And I miss him.  I miss what we had.  I wish it could have worked out.

 

But it didn’t.  And I had a mostly wonderful year with Bryn.  And I certainly wouldn’t want to give that up.

 

I do hope GV8′s happy.  I do hope he thinks of me fondly, or as fondly as he is able, given everything that happened.

 

I don’t know.  Like usual, I just don’t know.

Finally have a chance to stretch my fingers.

Was eating fortune cookies in a state of half-sleep last night, drugged out on cold medicene, hungry from a sunset run on the beach, legs warm and strong under blankets.  With a partially formed memory of a fortune cookie left on my nightstand, my body sent out a search party in form of my hand, fingers crawling along the wood until the tips hit crinkled plastic.

I took it back to me like a lethargic hunter, shredded the wrapping, broke it in two.  Hunted for the slip of paper in the dark with my tongue, crunching the empty half, bland surface sweetness in my mouth.

Tried to read my fortune by light of my cell phone, failed.  Sent out another search party for the light switch, blinked as pupils constricted.

I don’t quite remember my fortune.  Something about excessive amounts of happiness in the coming month.  I do remember thinking, in my dozed state, that I hoped the happiness came in the form of a certain male or two, and the parts that accompany them.

Lips, teeth, hands, cock.

Neck, shoulders, back, ass.

Tried to settle back into slumber, found myself rising again, spurred by stomach growlings.  Poked my feet out of the blankets, followed by ankles, calves, knees as I slid out of the side of the bed.  Felt the carpet under the pads of my feet, soft footsteps to the kitchen.

No need for lights there.  The microwave clock shows enough, illuminating my skin blue.

Dug in a cabinet, pulled out two more fortune cookies.

The first was stale and its fortune lay in my wastebasket.

The second I took back to bed, curled up around it.  Broke it and pulled the paper out.  Rolled part of the smooth shell around with my tongue until smashing it to bits with my teeth.

Swallowed it down.

Left the paper fortune with the other on my nighstand.  

I’ll check my future in the morning.

Well, it’s been a little.  I know, I know.  Turning into one of those sporadic blogs that just doesn’t cut it.

 

But life is busy, and all those times I’ve found myself itching for a keyboard and really let go like I used to have caught me while in places where I can’t.  It’s incredibly frustrating.

 

I went on my first date with someone since Bryn last Friday.

 

I went out with him because I knew him already.  Really, everyone else has been causing panic when they approach.

 

It was actually good.  I actually enjoyed myself, didn’t feel guilty at all.  We had a great time.  Even went for a mini-sexual test drive and I didn’t superimpose Bryn’s face over his like I did with the last one.

 

And, wow, he was good.  I mean, we didn’t have sex.  I’m slowing things down.

 

But he was good.

 

And our dynamic… pretty goddamn amazing.  At one point we were both upright, I was perched on his thighs, my legs hooked around his waist, hands running up his skull, sweat running down my back, just writhing and riding.  Was perfect sync, perfect rhythm.

 

Pants stayed on the whole time.

 

And it was funny, as we were walking, exploring the beachside at 1AM, I could tell he wanted to kiss me.  But he likes being pursued, and he’s easily “shy” for that first kiss.  I wouldn’t give it to him.  He broke down at 3AM, finally just did it.  Murmured that he had wanted to kiss me since wherever we were.  I told him I knew, just wanted to see how long it would take him to pursue.

 

Sometimes I’m a little mean.  But it’s cute.  I’m cute.  It works.

 

Ran into him two days later at Disneyland, while with Bryn.  They shook hands, talked a little shop (Friday’s date is a pro photographer), and Bryn and I went on our merry way.  Bryn said he certainly wasn’t disappointed in my choice.  And it’s true.  My date was an incredibly good-looking, well-dressed alpha male.

 

And a few years ago, I didn’t rate.  Too young, undeveloped, unpolished (still am, really– unpolished, that is).

 

I look at him and I feel like I’m punching above my weight class.  But Bryn thinks I’m right where I should be, and part of me agrees.  I’m just not used to the transformation yet.

 

Anyhow, Bryn and I went to Disneyland on Sunday.  Had a blast.  We both love Disneyland.  It’s not the rides, it’s not the family, it’s the concept.  It’s that someone had a fantastic dream and made it real, and there’s so much life and history to it for such a young place.  So we roamed around, bumped into friends.  Rode the Matterhorn in the dark.  Ate dinner at Napa Rose in the Grand Californian.  Sat in on a Turtle Talk show, did voice overs in the Animation Academy, shot darts and hoops in Midway Mania.  I won a large stuffed Bullseye (the horse from Toy Story 2) on one of the Paradise Pier games.  Bryn ate a lot of churros.  Rode the Haunted Mansion twice, snuck in line for Pirates of the Carribean with some friends.  Bumped into Geoffery Rush who was in the park as the Pirates 4 screening had took place the previous night over Tom Sawyer’s Island.  Ate ice cream and chocolate, kicked Bryn’s ass at Buzz Lightyear, did the submarine ride at night.

 

It was good.

 

I really do enjoy spending time with him.

 

And, of course, we talked about us.  How he hopes that, in a year or three, we get back together.  After he’s worked out some things, after I’ve grown some.  That we’ll grow together as friends and finally be able to date after working out all the communication kinks we have while being in a platonic relationship.  He really wants to be with me, he just thinks we don’t fit now.

 

That makes me feel a lot better.

 

And he is right, in some ways, how we don’t fit.  Our communication issues (we communicate in such different ways), my monogamy hang-ups, how much time and attention I need to feel happy in a relationship.

 

Some of that will smooth out with time.  Some of it won’t.  Maybe it’ll work.  Maybe I’ll meet someone in a few months that sweeps me off my feet and drags me to the altar.  Which I can’t really imagine, but it is possible.

 

Anyhow, it was a good day.  A really good day with him.  He had me laughing so hard when we were leaving I was bent over in a stairwell waiting to stop laughing so I could continue walking.  That’s really good.

 

As for other life things… finals week is next week.  Had the last class for one of my classes earlier this evening.  Can’t wait until this is over and summer is here.  Just have to write one short paper by next Monday, take an easy exam next Wednesday, and I’m done with my pre-reqs.  Whoo!

Not quite dead.

 

I’ve been really sick.

 

That happens a lot.  I get a cold and it whams itself into bronchitis or strep.  The stress certainly hasn’t helped my immune system any, either.

 

But I’m up and moving around again.  Good thing, too, as finals week is two weeks away.

 

Bryn and I are hanging out.  As friends.  Keeping me sane, keeping him company so he doesn’t retreat into his cave and never come out, like he does.  He’s in the middle of pre-production for a big movie, so he’s been super stressed.

 

I want him, still.  Not just sexually, but in my life, as my partner.  He knows this.  He worries that I’ll wait for him to get his mental/emotional shit together and be stuck waiting forever, missing other opportunities that could make me happy.

 

I’m going to try not to, but it’s hard.  I’ve been asked out on a few dates and had to say no or cancel them all because the thought makes me panic.  I tried easing into things with some light sexual contact with a friend I’ve fooled around with before and care for, but I ended up superimposing Bryn’s face on his and becoming very uncomfortable.  Had to stop him.  Apologized, got up, we hugged, I left.

 

My monogamous nature kills my sex life, even when I’m single.

 

I’m hoping, though.  Hoping that we’ll get to a point where we can date again.  Hoping that what we have when we’re alone can expand to the rest of our daily lives.  It’s a weird situation.

 

I know I shouldn’t.  He tells me I shouldn’t, that I need to move on.  To not get hung up on him.  Even though he has the same hopes I do.  Because he doesn’t know what will happen, where he’ll go.  And he hopes we’ll grow together as friends, then date again.  But he doesn’t know if it will happen.  Doesn’t know if he’s too broken, if we’re too different.

 

So… hovering.  Not able to date, even if I wasn’t hovering.  Sex is… well, yeah.  I’ve had two partners in the last year and some change.  Sex… it isn’t easy for me anymore.  I suppose that’s a sign of maturity, or at least changing values or desires.  I don’t think I’m that girl anymore.

 

Who knew I would change that much?

 

I’m still wild, still free and confident.  But the easy, friendly fucks?  Not so much.

 

Maybe that will change as the sting eases.

 

Ah, I miss him.  We curled up in bed last night and we talked as I began to fall asleep.  Talked about us, about things.  I don’t remember a lot of that, as I was dozing in and out, but I do remember him telling me he had hope.

 

In the morning, he told me not to hang on, just to wash him out of my hair.  Not to hope for something that may not happen.  And it hurts.  It’s like he put a band-aid on my heart and then rips it off.  Like he does it all the time.  He wants the best for me, wants me to have everything I want for my future, wants me to be happy.

 

And it makes me ache.

 

 

This is off-topic of the last few days.

 

Well, it’s starting off by being off-topic.  That might change.

 

I’m having frustration issues.  I’ve been looking for a forum, BBS, whatever, where I can find intelligent adults that discuss sexuality and seduction.  Genuine interest in learning and sharing experiences.

 

You know, what I was hoping that the PUA community would be.

 

I’m coming up empty handed.

 

And I don’t have a lot of interest in taking over a subforum focusing on sexuality and trying to educate its members on sexuality.

 

I want someplace where I belong.  Sexually.  I want to not be an extreme.  you know, somewhere.  Where I’m not an outlier.

 

I received a text at 3AM on Saturday from a guy I went down on five years ago telling me that I need to start a class for girls on how to give head.  Because he had just had another bad head experience with a girl that was otherwise warranted a five-star review with her performance.

 

I’m good in bed.  I’m wild, responsive, sensual, and completely wrapped up in my partner.  My oral skills are a source of pride for me, something that I’ve spent years working on, perfecting.

 

I would not have been able to date GV8 or Bryn, both of them with their partner count in the 300-400 range, if I couldn’t have kept up.

 

And I want that to be appreciated.  I want my sex king.  I want my partner.  I want that guy who will tumble into bed with me, drag me into bed, initiate as much as I initiate (which is constantly), and spend weekends sweating ourselves senseless.

 

I had that with GV8.  I loved it.  He was the best lover I’ve ever had.

 

But other things didn’t line up.

 

With Bryn, I had my fetishes.  My rape scenes, a man who was actually getting to the point of working me as hard as I wanted, bruising me, beating me.  He had me strung up in his dungeon at one point, a huge (and dull) metal hook tied to the bar I was hanging from, inserted into me, my weight supported by the tips of my toes and my cunt on the hook.  Dripping wet down my legs as he took a riding crop to me, drooling all over my chest through the o-ring in my mouth, blindfolded, weights hanging off my nipples.  He put weights on my lower lips, heavy and so good… but I was so wet they slid off into the puddle beneath me.

 

This is what I want.  This is what my life has been for the last two years.  And I never got to push it as far as I wanted.  Never got as rough as I could have taken.

 

And now I’m back at square one.  Depressed and missing Bryn, even though we’re talking now, working through things so we can be friends.

 

But I want someone I can worship.  Someone who will worship me.  Someone who has the experience to do the things I want, to play at the level I need to play at.  I wanted it to be Bryn.  But it’s not going to be him.

 

So who is it and where is he?  When am I going to find my sex-partner?  My match and mate?  I’m not ready for another relationship, I’m not even ready to have sex with someone new, but I wish I knew where I was going after this.  I wish I knew what direction to take.

 

Anyhow, these are just thoughts, some of way too many, that I’ve had this last week.  I think these are more positive than the mope, but it makes me feel weird and uncertain that I’m thinking so quickly of the future and of men.  Makes me question my motives.

 

I have more to say, but it looks like it’ll have to wait.