Heart: crushed.

I should have posted this a while ago. This follows on from my last post back in September about how I was going to deal with my non-monogamous boyfriend, given that I’m a one-man gal. This tale is set  in February 2014.

Previously, I had decided that instead of forbidding him to do something (not my style) that I would just let him see how much it hurt and hope that got the message across. This was a flawed plan.

His fooling around with others had dwindled off and ceased since my last post which was great for me: finally monogamy without the awkward conversation! Hurrah! Except that not having that conversation meant that WE HADN’T HAD THAT CONVERSATION. Fuck.

In a scenario straight out of a badly-written sitcom, I stumbled across an online conversation between him and another girl (who I didn’t particularly like before, can’t stand her now!) while looking for music to play while I did a nice thing and tidied his flat for him (he’s been working too hard). This conversation went mainly along the lines of “I really enjoyed pushing you up against that wall while waiting for our cab on Wednesday,” and “I can’t stop thinking about the feeling of cumming over your tits while you bit down on my nipple”. Not exactly fucking ambiguous.

Livid is probably a fair description of my reaction. I texted him at work, he called me straight back and confirmed the absolutely obvious. I swore at him, hung up and packed all the bits I’d ever left in his house and walked, sobbing, into the rain to find a bus for the long journey home.

He called again and asked me to stop in my tracks, he was in a cab on the way over and needed to talk to me. I waited in the rain, not wanting to go back into his house, still so angry but starting to just feel sad. When he arrived I felt the anger swell up again and managed to fit in some good stand-in-the-street-yelling, which is always satisfying for my Mediterranean streak.

Apparently, the fact that both he and this other girl had checked I was ok with them playing together 9 months previously, had meant that he had assumed that was a standing agreement. My argument was that he knew I was monogamous and how else had he expected me to react?

My main question for him was Why? Why had he felt the need to go get his rocks off elsewhere when a moments forethought would have predicted my distress? I am far from boring in the bedroom, consistently willing, and she even looks like a shorter version of me so it can’t have been a desire for a change of scenery. His answer was good, and frustratingly un-counterable:

“I was being selfish. I wanted to take advantage of our open relationship for no other reason than the fact that I could.”

And that’s when I realised, I should have had the conversation. Wanting him to just know is all well and good, but it I haven’t laid out my terms exactly, and just hoped he’s spotted an evolution in our relationship, then he is left with a bunch of loopholes that human nature will try and slip through.

I made it very clear that he had broken my heart. I even confessed that I had thought I was falling in love with him but that had now been corrected, and then I took some time out and didn’t speak to him for a week. That week was hard for him and I’m glad. Despite the fact that I may not have set out my stall clearly enough, he is not a stupid man, and part of him knew what he was risking.

We have terms now. We met in a neutral place and I outlined my terms for a continued relationship. Given that I want to try threesomes and group sex with him, it’s hardly like I’m asking him to only ever be sexual with me, but I am asking to be included in all future sexual activity. We hashed things out and have managed to carry on. The wound in my heart is healing, but there’s definite lumps of scar tissue.

I wonder if I will ever start to fall in love with him again.

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What to do when perfection is flawed?

And so I pop back up after an extended absence. Life has been busy, new job (sadly much more corporate and with absolutely no use for my encyclopaedic knowledge of sex toys and lubricants), new home, and a new relationship.

Obviously it’s the relationship that brings me here – doesn’t it always? I am very pleased with my latest acquisition: widely agreed as quite ridiculously good looking, geekily intelligent, eloquent, and utterly filthy in (and out of) the bedroom. I think you’ll agree: Score.

I am indeed one lucky girl, and he one lucky guy of course as I am all of those things and more, but there’s one tiny little fly in the ointment. A baby fly, basically a flea, but it’s there and it’s detracting from the perfection that is otherwise tantalisingly close. This man is almost, but not quite, entirely mine.

Yep, another of those have-your-cake-and-eat-it bastards. It’s nowhere near as bad as those that I have encountered in the past; in six months I think he’s fooled around with others twice, maybe 3 times. He keeps it predominately to a monthly kink event, and after a lot of discussion and laying of cards on the table there is a rule in place that states nobody overnight. As he is very switchy and I am not, I could comprehend his need to get a subby fix, though I have put a lot of effort in to exploring my dominant side (dormant since 1999!). Imagine my surprise when he came to me one day after one such promiscuous sojourn feeling fragile because he’d had a seriously intense scene topping a (now rather broken) girl. My heart was winded.

As much as I wanted to comfort him, I had not mentally prepared myself for him sharing such dynamics with others. Aren’t I his bitch? Aren’t my squeals of pain satisfying enough? Possibly not the healthiest way of thinking about it, but I’m emotional and often self-loathing, what would you expect? After a week of fighting my ‘flight’ response we sat down and I was able to articulate my response to what had happened. He understood, which is a start, but other than that what is there to do? With his personality type, if I try and forbid him from doing something, he will just want to do it more. I can only resort to one thing: let him see how hurt I am.

It’s quite shocking in it’s open, honest, cruelty. I am fully aware that he cares quite a lot for me, and as much as my automatic reaction is to shield him from the pain he causes, in the long term it will benefit neither of us. I’ve shielded many a lover from similar in the past and it has never worked out well for me in the short term (bottling up hurts) or them in the long term (“Why are you suddenly not happy? You were happy before, right? You said you were fine with this…”).

The image of what he did with that other girl, the casual comment from a friend of his about seeing his cock get sucked in the club, an invite to the same club and the complicated decline that results in, these things all cause little stabs of pain, but please let me make this clear: these are weighed against a really rather pleasing connection full of fantastic sex, interesting conversations and wonderful silences.

Is this the price I have to pay? And is it a reasonable price?

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It’s been a while

I’ve not been blogging for quite some time now. I guess I’ve not had much to say. The fling with Dino ended in a puff of disappointment with his  grand promises of treats galore becoming nothing more than an opportunity for him to let me down repeatedly. I wasn’t too surprised, his wife had left him for good reason after all! It was a good chance to relish my feelings of princessiness by walking away from the situation.

There’s been one or two encounters since then, but nothing worthy of note.

Except Blondie.

Oh Blondie!

He is pretty damn gorgeous, but of course not without strings! (Why is this crap never easy?!) I met him quite a while back, late last year, at a kinky social. And again at the same event the next month, and the one after that. It’s true I was very attracted to him, but I didn’t really give it much thought beyond that. A little social rummaging and the few conversations we had made it quite clear that he had a penchant for submitting to women – not really my bag given that I like a nice, powerful man that will strike terror and lust into my being simultaneously.

He’s also got one heck of a reputation. This guy gets around. A lot. I’m aware that I’m not exactly a snowy white virgin but I try and have some discretion. No such concern for Blondie, although I am impressed by how few people he’s managed to piss off with his loose ways. We danced around each other a bit, and I employed an unprecedented level of self-restraint by not sleeping with him, and making it very clear that I had no desire to become a notch on his bedpost. I have to admit he was the perfect gentleman in that respect, and it’s an approach that seems to have paid off, we date regularly, and I am definitely in a different category to the other people he fools around with.

Hold up though – other people. Yep, not my favourite situation at all. Blondie knows this, one of the reasons we get on so well is that we can be honest with each other – I can say exactly what I’m thinking. I don’t know if this is because he’s the first man I’ve met in a long time that has empathy, or if I’ve just hit an age where I can no longer be bothered hiding how I really feel. Either way, I get to be upfront which is pleasant.

There’s more stories to tell about my forays with this latest man on the scene, but for now I will just continue to wage war with my internal Duncan Bannatyne who keeps wanting to declare “I’m out” as walking from this deal would suck  – he’s far too beautiful!

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Princess in training

Getting ready to meet Dateboy along with some other friends for drinks a couple of weeks ago I found myself feeling pretty damn frisky. I preened and primped, put on some damn nice underwear and a pretty dress and prepared to seduce. Only to get a message saying that he wasn’t going to make it after all! “Well!” thought I, “I’d hate to waste all this effort now, and I really am in the mood for getting my own way…”

I’m still trying (and currently succeeding!) to not sleep with Iain again and I knew this turn of events would test that. Luckily, halfway through the evening I decided that I was happy enough to not get laid that evening, I was having a good time and I would certainly walk home alone straight past Iain’s house later rather than opt for the ultimately disappointing yet available liaison.

And of course, once I had made that decision, the universe conspired to throw me off track with the appearance of Dino. Let’s have a quick bit of background for Dino shall we? Currently kipping at a close friends house in one of the longest running ‘temporary arrangements’  I’ve ever seen, he’s been single for all of a month after his wife of 9 years left him for being useless. Sounds like a catch, right? No? Hmmm. He of course has his plus points: he’s an adorable man, cheeky, funny and instantly endearing. I’ve known Dino for a quite a long time, and it’s not unusual for us to flirt to a certain degree, though something seemed different this evening. Maybe it was because I was basically on heat, maybe it was just long enough since his wife left him to actually contemplate another woman in that way, or maybe it was our mutual friend trying to set us up. Either way, at 4am he took my hand and led me upstairs to bed.

Feeling our naked bodies pressed together was really quite delicious and small gentle kisses soon became urgent and hungry. A heroic level of drinking meant that sadly he wasn’t ‘up’ to much but he certainly made up for that with his tongue and fingers! Earlier in the evening my friend had asked me if I liked Dino and I had responded that he was far too much of a nice boy for me. I’m unsure if my friend relayed this information but I had my suppositions mildly challenged as while his tongue was buried inside me I was surprised by a couple of evil slaps to the inner thigh. It was all thoroughly enjoyable.

Waking in the morning I rolled over to see Dino lying on the other side of the bed with his back facing me. Thinking over what had happened the previous night I started to feel bad for him. Suddenly I was convinced that he would be massively regretting what he’d done, missing his wife and never want to face me again. As I lay there figuring out the best way to sneak out he stirred and turned over, broke into a massive warm smile and wrapped his arm around me.

Now why had I assumed the worst possible scenario? What is wrong with me that I would assume someone would be horrified to wake up next to me? Despite Dino’s protestations I did eventually get up and drag myself to work but my reaction was something that I dwelt on for quite some time. Speaking to my friend Keelin about it he proposed that I needed to put some serious effort into rekindling my self-worth and although he never thought he’d say this to anyone, I “need to become more of a princess.” A separate friend confirmed the same thing, and pointed out that my previous relationship had been quite damaging to me on that front. Being with a man for so long that was almost physically incapable of telling me I was loved or precious seems to have had a bit of a lasting effect.

Dino and I have met a few times since, he’s excellent for cuddles and beautiful kisses and it turns out the main feature was well worth waiting for as his cock is just the right side of huge. Lucky me! He is useless though, and going through a tough time of trying to get his life back on track and his own place. I’m ready for this though, and not getting involved even remotely. I learned my lesson from my last boyfriend and I certainly don’t need a child to look after – I’m in this for the thrills!

The princessy element is something I’m definitely spending some thinking time on. Recently a trip to a local bar with Dino and another friend turned into a nightmare of fending off clumsy passes from men who thought they had the right to invade my space or pinch my arse. And I let this happen. Reflecting on my lack of vocal indignation at this disrespect I started thinking about whether I deserve it, or if anyone does. Perhaps because I am comfortable talking about sex, and reasonably promiscuous I sacrifice the right to being treated like a lady. Perhaps I am too much of a slut to have any worth.

Bollocks. It’s this type of thinking that perpetuates the problem. I am hardly indiscriminate with my choices and my high sex drive does not make it ok for people to assume an entitlement to my body. So from now on I will be fighting my corner and being a bit more vocal about demanding respect. Wish me luck!

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As time passes I learn more and more about myself, yet new people I meet have to start from scratch. I guess this is what makes old friends so great, friendship strengthened through time and shared experience. This is not an excuse that I’m preparing for the following, just an observation.

And the following is pretty inexcusable: I slept with my ex. The one I’ve been rebuilding a friendship with after 4 years ago breaking his heart. The one I could never have a satisfying physical relationship with despite loving him a great deal. The one that is friends with Iain, the guy I’ve been shtupping on the sly.

Even for me this is quite a big mistake. In my defence, he walked me home from a bar when I could no longer speak because I had celebrated the sunshine with a full day’s drinking with friends. I was amazingly drunk and he asked if I wanted a cuddle. I think I was being wilfully naive to think that is what it would be. Safe to say, I’m not proud.

My friend held a BBQ a couple of days later which we were both at, it was a strained casualness between us, and I wasn’t ready to be left alone with him but we did ok. I don’t know what I’ll say if he ever mentions it, hopefully I’ve got plenty of time to figure that out!

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So I’m currently sat naked awaiting to be instructed to put on a corset and stockings and nothing else before blindfolding myself and prostrating my body on my bed. There are keys to my front door under the flowerpot outside and a man that I met online a couple of days ago is driving down the motorway towards me. I am to wear earphones blasting music so that I am unaware of when he has arrived.

I won’t know he’s there until he wants me to. I won’t know how long I’m on my own and how long I’m being observed for in my vulnerable and needy state. This man has been controlling my orgasms for the past few days and has a deliciously close-to-the-bone approach to my shyness and submission. He’s fucking with my head and making me scared and I’m loving it!

I’ve left it as in the air as I can, for the thrill, but don’t worry dear reader, I have a safe call organised. I like to be reckless, but not stupid!

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That burst my bubble!

Collapsing into a sweaty, weak-kneed heap after yet more bedroom (and lounge) gymnastics with Iain I’m feeling pretty sated and content as his arm snakes around my waist and holds me tight. Earlier that evening we’d chatted a bit about my ex and the fact that he is apparently now schtupping the lady who took quite a dislike to me on the evening Iain and I first went home together. This distresses me quite a bit as she’s not a very nice person, but what can I do? This is the first of any intimacy he’s had since we split several years ago as far as I’m aware so in a way I’m glad… but he could do so much better!

Besides, I’m not such a hypocrite that I’m going to get too hung up on his forays into her knickers; let’s return to the matter in hand. Iain and I had been talking about who knew what we were up to and who we thought might suspect. I asked if he had told his most recent ex, as I know they are very close, but sadly it just didn’t work out between them. I really wish I hadn’t mentioned her. Picture the scene: we’re both naked, coated in a light sheen of coital sweat, his large frame wrapped around me in a secure and tight spoon and his lips almost touching the nape of my neck as he talks about how he definitely wouldn’t tell his ex about what we were up to, as he still hoped to get back with her once she’s sorted her head out. He’s aware and has been told by friends that her hot/cold behaviour is stringing him along, but he can’t help but be strung. He hopes deep down to one day have children with her, to build a life together, though he’s quite aware of how unlikely that is currently.

Ow. That hurt. Why does that hurt?

As I’ve said before I don’t want to build a relationship with this man, I just really enjoy the sex. Suddenly though I feel very different. I want to gather my clothes from the floor and go home then and there. But it’s 5am and that would be just a little melodramatic, especially as I’m not sure yet why I’m upset. In the morning I snuck out while he was still asleep and instead of the usual lightness I have in my step when leaving his flat, I hung my head in sadness. It all feels a bit similar to Dateboy telling me about how he thought he might love his American friend (another post-coital conversation) and Bunny saying he’s thinking of becoming a one-woman guy… I’m starting to think that there’s a difference to fucking someone who has no ties to fucking someone who’s in love with someone else. It shouldn’t make any difference but it does. In the space of 5 minutes I’d lost all of that confidence I got from Iain, the inner vixen is curled in a ball crying at yet another perceived slight. Perhaps I am postponing reality when getting intimate with these men: playing the role of a cherished woman. Once I know their heart belongs to someone else I don’t seem to be able to continue suspending disbelief.

Now I feel dirty and used, and a little sorry for Iain, who will have woken alone not knowing why, and will almost certainly be refused any further access to my goodies with no explanation. What would I tell him? That my ego’s too fragile to cope with even the tiniest of knocks?

I need to work on this, toughen up. Yet all I want to do is be someone’s precious.

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